Two Slayers, One Heart: Version Three Point Zero
by Caustic Paladin
Summary: Complete! The day the Scythe activates all potential Slayers, one small city gets TWO Slayers- which leads the Scooby Gang to set up shop there. Soon, old and new Slayers and enemies are everywhere. AU, femslash, ignores Buffy Season 8, Angel Season 5. Very minor crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 1

**_Note to readers: I do not write other people's stories, ideas, or original characters. Please don't ask._**

_Rose:_

I never expected to be anything special, you know? I never expected to do anything memorable, to make any difference in the world. All I ever wanted to do was design video game programs.

I didn't expect to get super-powers and stand up to the Forces of Evil.

Sometimes, these things just… happen.

And this time they happened to me.

I still don't know why. Back then, I didn't know how. I just know that they did, and I had to deal. And it's not like I didn't have enough to deal with.

Already I was a fourteen year-old genius (I was a high-school sophomore at fourteen, I skipped first grade completely), a "wannabe-jockette," a lesbian, a geek and a "problem child."

Then came that whacked-out day in May when my whole damn world got rocked.

Not like it _started_ all that great. But I have to say… it ended on a good note.

"Leave her alone, Belden!"

I looked around to tell Brian Keller to stay out of it, and Kurt Belden punched me in the face. So naturally, a hundred and twenty pounds of fighting-mad chess champion leaped on Kurt's back and tried to take him down. Kurt didn't notice, really, just grabbed the weight off of his back and flung it casually to one side. There was a thunk and a groan of pain, and I knew my folks would blame me for what happened here, too.

"I'm okay, Rose."

That was my erstwhile rescuer, Brian Keller. Chess demigod, super-electronics buff, amateur web master and damn good Dungeon Master. Fellow geek, in other words. He had the heart of a lion— and the body of an anemic mouse.

Not like I'm any sort of giant.

Kurt Belden was an even six feet— and more than a full foot taller than me. I weighed in at ninety-two pounds to Belden's hundred and seventy-five. So naturally, I was the target _du jour_.

I shook my hair out of my face and looked around the gymnasium. Coach Phelps was in the locker room, taking care of an injured student. No upperclassmen. No help. Just my classmates, and none of them were going to stand up for me— except Brian, and that was already over.

"Belden," I said slowly, "I really don't want to do this today. You've hit me once. Can we say you win and be done with it?"

"Screw that, Rivets." Belden grinned. I jerked into a fighting stance at that hated nickname. "Yeah. That's my girl, Rosie the Riveter. You want to dance, you call the tune. Hands or foils?"

I stared at him, not believing he was that crazy. "Belden, if we pick up foils— "

"We can tell Coach we got bored and were practicing," Belden said. "Might keep you from getting kicked out for another couple of days. We'll even wear masks."

I licked my lips and thought about it.

Remember when I called myself a wannabe jockette? The fencing was part of why. The rest was my martial arts habit. I was in good shape for my age and size, because I worked so hard at fencing and Kung Fu.

It's just that all the hard work in the world didn't seem to help. I worked, sweated, trained, pushed myself, learned all I could— and screwed everything up, every time, when I tried to use what I'd supposedly learned.

But, still… foils. We could claim practice, and maybe I wouldn't get thrown out.

I walked away from Kurt Belden, heading for the lockers that he had a key to, being the JV fencing team manager. "Open it up."

He grinned, took the key from around his neck, and opened the case. I grabbed a mask and reached for the foil that I thought of as "mine." It was a little long, to make up for my lack of reach; at under five feet tall, my arms weren't exactly long, you know?

I turned to face Kurt and pulled on my mask. The kids in class had already drifted over to the fencing strip, lining up to watch me get my ass beaten.

No jackets, no padding, just masks? I was going to be a mass of bruises at best, and probably bloody, too. But if I could just put _one stripe_ on that egotistical son-of-a-bitch, I'd take whatever beating he handed out.

I faced him and saluted. He performed a lazy, half-assed salute back— and turned it into an attack. I saw it coming, and barely managed to parry. But he riposted, and I felt the sting of the metal button that covered the foil's deadly point slamming into my ribs just below my left breast.

"Touché!" Belden yelled, while I tried to remember how to breathe.

You think I'm a wimp? You try having a one hundred and seventy-five pound, muscular guy slam all his weight into you at something like twenty-five or more MPH— and all concentrated on a half-inch diameter circle.

I flipped my sword to acknowledge the touch and tried to get it up on a line to stop his next attack.

Look, it didn't work, okay? Not on the next attack, or any of the five after that. I never hit him, and he was leaving bruises, welts all over me— and one bloody stripe, just below the hem of my gym shorts.

Then, just as I was about to throw aside my foil and humiliate myself totally by trying to run… something happened. Nowadays, I know what it was, but still… well, it was really, _really_ weird.

First off, I had a sort of… vision. I saw this really pretty chick— she had red hair, but then it turned white, and never mind that she looked twenty-something— and she was casting some sort of spell.

Yeah, I know what that sounds like. But I swear, that's what it looked like. There was this really freaky-looking axe-thing, and a redhead was chanting over it. And there was this flash, and her hair turned white —

And I was back in my head— but something was different.

There was a foil coming at a spot just a little below and off to the left of my mask. If it hit, it'd probably break a collarbone.

I did what I was taught to do. I shifted my left shoulder back and down, at the same time as I beat Belden's foil aside with mine, dropped back a step, and _lunged _back at him!

For the very first time, it worked.

My foil hit square over Belden's heart, drawing a surprised squawk of pain from him— and I stared at my foil.

It wasn't just a long piece of metal anymore. It was a weapon, and a well-balanced one. It was a good length for me, and the grip fit my hand perfectly.

It wasn't just my favorite practice weapon, _it was a part of me!_

And I knew right then and there that, if it came down to it, I could kill Kurt Belden with this little mock-weapon.

So I gave him one hell of a beating instead. No permanent injuries, nothing even serious. But he'd be sore for a week, at least.

Me? I wasn't sore at all. All the previous injuries were dwindling in pain and importance. I felt like a million bucks. The fact I was humiliating Kurt Belden with his favorite weapon— hitting him as often as I liked, and never letting him touch me at all— _that_ didn't hurt anything either.

I felt better than I ever had in my life. Right up until Coach Phelps grabbed me by the arm while screaming "Killian, you freak! What are you— "

Coach Phelps is a big guy, six-three or so, and maybe two-hundred and fifteen pounds. Mostly muscle, he's forty or so, but still in good shape. But he surprised me, and scared me. I was riding a high from beating Belden's ass, then Coach grabbed me by my left arm and jerked me sideways —

— and suddenly, I _could_ do all of those martial arts things I'd tried and tried to learn to do. I _knew_ I could, don't ask me how.

I had a Bruce Lee moment.

I used the momentum from Coach Phelps pulling me, put my left foot on his cocked left leg, just above the knee, and pressed up, pulling my arm in at the same time. I stepped up on his leg and kicked off, spun, and caught him across the jaw with my right foot. I went spinning past as he let go, and landed cat-like a couple of feet away while Coach Phelps fell on his ass and stared at me.

That was when the day started to get _really_ bad….

Coach Phelps sat on the mats next to the fencing strip and stared at me like I was a three-horned Martian with green and purple stripes. I guess from his point of view, I seemed almost that normal….

I'd pulled the kick I'd laid alongside this big, muscular man's jaw— and still he sat there with his eyes watering, clutching his jaw with one hand, and staring at me.

Without taking his eyes off of me, Coach Phelps lowered his hand a little and spat into it. Even from ten feet off or so, I could see that he spat red. I figured I was as good as expelled, right there and then.

So when Kurt Belden screamed in hatred and charged me from behind, sword back up over his head, determined to knock me down and out, I just said to myself, "Hell with it!"—and opened the can of whoop-ass I'd found inside of me on the stupid jerk.

(No, I don't know how I knew exactly where Kurt's sword was coming at me from. I just did. Deal with it— I had to!)

Belden's foil came down at my head. I raised mine and deflected his blade off to one side. At the same time, I drove my left elbow back into Kurt's gut. He let out this sort of a bark and tried to grab me. He was too busy trying to breathe to be aiming really well, though. I stepped out from his arms, parried the saber he had forgotten but still held and smacked his hands with my foil. He dropped his sword, and tried to kick me.

I sidestepped it, and kicked him in the head, the gut _and_ the crotch. That pretty much ended the fight right there. He folded up on the ground after that last shot.

"_WAY TO GO ROSE!" _

That was my buddy Brian, staring at me with a totally shocked (but delighted) expression on his face.

My other classmates were staring at me with a totally new look. It took a minute for me to realize that it was respect.

I barely had time to think that was a look I could get used to before Coach Phelps jerked me around by my arm and screamed in my face, "I'll see you expelled for this, you little bitch!"

Then he slapped me— and I grinned. Coach stared at me, then shook his head and began dragging me off towards the office.

_Elaine:_

My life was pretty… normal, you know? I mean, I went to school. I got passing, even good, grades. I had hobbies and a best friend. Winston was a private school, I got 'A's in most of my classes. Reading and dancing were more obsessions than hobbies, and my best friend was a Wiccan chick. But I was still normal in comparison….

In comparison to what, you may ask?

To suddenly becoming superhuman and then getting trained to kick evil vampire ass. Not to mention finding… well. The day was interesting, to say the least.

It was to be the most important day of my life, the first day of a _new_ life. It started out good; my parents had gone away for a week and left me alone, trusting me despite a little… _incident_ the September before. But it all went downhill from there, starting first period, when I realized I'd read the wrong chapter for science. Then it kept edging downwards (meatloaf for lunch, the one dish at Winston that I hated, etc.). At least until the end of the school day… then it started uphill again.

But I'll get to that when it's time. What's important is, that was the day my life changed. For better and for worse. So far?

Better is winning.

"Oh, come on, Marshall," Jeff Hughes said. "All I'm saying is that I'd love a shot at doing your dance teacher, she's freaking hot— and all I'm asking is if you wouldn't do her, too."

"And all I'm saying to you," I said, carefully keeping my voice low, "is that it's none of your business, Hughes. I don't care how attractive you think Miss Sorenson is, I don't see why whether or not I find her attractive matters to you."

"Well, duh!" Hughes said, getting deliberately louder. "It's because lesbians are hot, Marshall— and we all know you're a lesbian, right?"

I closed my eyes and wished, for the ten-billionth time since the previous September that I hadn't let my infatuation with my best friend, my new-toy-syndrome with the sex we'd had twice before that awful day at the end of the first week of school, tempt me into making love to her in what we thought would be the abandoned theater of the school— on a mat in the middle of the stage. I'd been making love to her when the lights came on to reveal us there in the middle of the stage, as Mr. Silvers, the drama teacher, came through with his entire first year drama class— sixteen people, nine girls and seven guys— to give them their first look at the stage.

Instead, they'd seen the stage, and me and Kimberly Duncan, my best friend and (then) new girlfriend completely nude. Worst of all, in that fraction of a second before the lights came on, we'd both started to orgasm.

Bad, bad day. Things had gotten very tense, and I figured that if Winston hadn't been having trouble with money since the Mitsubishi plant outside of town scaled back production and fired a bunch of people— including upper management types, who could afford the private school for their kids— Kimber and I would have been expelled, not just suspended for a week.

My parents wigged. Mom took it better than Dad, didn't wig over me being gay— or maybe bi with a strong preference for girls— just over me having sex in school. Dad, however, had freaked over me liking girls. If Mom hadn't said— well, I don't know what she said to him in private, later, but it worked, and I'm glad, because he'd been going to make me start therapy, see if a shrink couldn't get me "straight."

As it was, I'd been grounded until Christmas. Kimber and I… no longer an item. Not like she wasn't still my best friend, but the enforced separation let us see that we really wouldn't have worked out. We were both too… I don't know. We both wanted to lead and have the other one follow, maybe? That feels right. We both wanted to be the one who was… not in charge, but maybe in control of things, sort of?

God, I wish I knew how to say it right.

Anyway, Kimber still held the best friend position in my life— which is probably why she stepped between me and Hughes and said, "Actually, you don't _know_ that. All you _know_ is that Elaine had at least one homosexual encounter, which according to everyone who knows anything about human sexuality— leaving you out of the running, I realize— happens to every single human being at some point.

"Now, why don't you shut the hell up— before I start asking you uncomfortable questions about _your_ homosexual encounter— and how many times you've counted to one, now."

Jeff Hughes turned red, and he shoved Kimber aside, hard. She fell over a desk, and I found myself wishing that Mrs. Anders, our English Lit teacher, hadn't stepped out of the room to take a sick girl to the nurse's office.

But nobody pushes around my friends. I stood up and shoved Jeff Hughes back to the back of the room— easy to do, since we were sitting in the back row— hard enough to stagger him.

"Sounds like Kimber struck a nerve, huh, Jeff?" I said as he started back at me. "What's wrong— you never learned to count past one, so you keep using that number for counting your gay sex sessions? Well—" He tried to shove me and I took a sliding, sideways step, making him miss. "— let me give you some advice. Try holding up a finger for every time you've done it with a guy. Oh, wait— you can't hold up your toes, can you? Especially not when you're going to need both feet to count that high!"

Jeff snarled, and this time he didn't shove. He punched me, right in the gut, folded me over and sent me to my knees feeling like I was going to vomit.

That's when the weird happened.

I blacked out for a second, or at least that's what I thought then, and for a while after. And I saw a young woman in her twenties, with red hair. There was something like an axe, and she was chanting something—then there was a flash, and her hair turned _white._

Weird.

Then . . well my stomach stopped wrenching and cramping, and I knew I wasn't about to vomit. It even stopped hurting, or at least stopped hurting more than just a little bit.

I stood up very suddenly, grabbed Jeff Hughes by his tie, spun him around and shoved him back into the wall— and then _up_ the wall, holding onto just his tie, and with just one hand.

Look, I'm not short. Five feet, six inches, not bad. I weigh about a hundred and ten pounds— I'm slender, have a dancer's build, which is nice, since I want to dance— so I had no right to be manhandling a six foot, four inch, two-hundred and twenty-five pound linebacker-type like he was a kid half his own size.

I held him up there for a long moment, not feeling any strain at all, and Jeff Hughes stared at me with wide, scared eyes. Then Kimber spoke.

"I hear Mrs. Anders coming, Elaine. Better put him down."

Only Kimber could sound so matter of fact about the impossible like she did. I dropped Hughes, moved back to my seat and sat down like nothing had happened.

Inside, I was shaking and trying not to freak. Hughes… he'd weighed nothing to me. I'd had more trouble picking up two and three year old kids, back in my babysitting days.

"Okay, people," Mrs. Anders said when she came in to find all twelve of us sitting in our seats and facing forward like perfect little students, "what did I miss? Come on, you all look far too innocent."

Jeff Hughes said (in a slightly rough voice), "Nothing, Mrs. Anders. Just… a little argument. Nothing serious."

"Okay," Mrs. Anders said, sitting at her desk. "Then why is there a desk on its side in front of you, Miss Duncan?"

"I knocked it over getting up," Kimber said, "and I forgot to pick it up."

"I see." She looked around at the twelve of us in the room (private school, small classes) and sighed. "I'm never going to find out, am I?"

"No, Mrs. Anders," we all chorused together.

"All right. All right. Then let us return to Oliver Twist. Who can tell me what character's name became police slang for a while? Though I don't think it's still in use."

I had no idea how to answer that, so I sat and thought about what I'd done— and wondered how the hell I'd done it.

In fact, I wondered what— exactly!— was going on.


	2. Chapter 2

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 2

_Rose:_

Three minutes after Coach Phelps grabbed me, I was sitting in the office of the Assistant Principal. Mr. Dunlap was forty-something, lean and wiry, and in charge of discipline. Most kids were scared silly of him. Any other time I would be too. Not then. Not that time.

"Fighting again, Rose Erin Killian?" Mr. Dunlap said, sounding… sounding like he wanted me to believe that it made him sad to see me. "And assaulting a teacher, this time? Well, that's the end of your career here, I guarantee you that."

"And I guarantee you that if you even suspend me," I said, grinning hugely, "I'll sue the ass off of this school, Coach Phelps, and you personally. If my parents don't want to, I bet I can find a lawyer who'll do it on my behalf."

"Sue us?" Mr. Dunlap said, sounding kind of dangerous. "For what, Miss Killian?"

"For Coach Phelps calling me a freak in front of my whole class," I said, feeling my grin widening. "And for him calling me a bitch in front of them.

"And because he hit me— in front of about thirty witnesses."

Mr. Dunlap hadn't been doing anything really full of motion. But at that, he froze. For a long moment, he stared at me, looking to see if I was lying. I could see when he decided I wasn't. It was like watching a cop when he realizes that the battered wife he's talking to isn't going to press charges against the abusive husband who battered her.

Or maybe like my Mom realizing that the cable isn't going to come back on in time to watch Law and Order. One of those.

"Fighting gets a suspension, regardless of whatever else happens," Mr. Dunlap said, trying to sound matter of fact.

"Then I go see a lawyer." I shook my head. "Mr. Dunlap, you haven't even asked my side of what happened, so I don't feel even a little bad about saying that if you try to punish me with more than a warning, I'm gonna sue you personally 'til your wallet bleeds— and two years from now, your Jaguar will be the car I take my driver's test in."

Mr. Dunlap started to turn red. He loved that car. It was the only thing he loved, maybe. It was a '58, painted British racing green, and gorgeous. I'd love to own it— but Mr. Dunlap was a little brighter than that.

"Get out of my office, Killian! And I promise you— you step out of line again, and I'll see to it you never attend a public school again!"

I got. I didn't slow down as I passed Coach Phelps, but I did say, "Thanks for getting me out of trouble, Coach!"

He stood up— to grab me, I think— and Mr. Dunlap's voice, loaded with ice, said, "Mr. Phelps! My office, and close the door!"

I stopped at the receptionist's desk and told Mrs. Kelly that I'd need a late pass to my last class, since I hadn't even changed out of my gym clothes yet, and the bell was just ringing for sixth hour. Mrs. Kelly just tossed me a conspirator's wink— she liked me for some reason, probably that we're both of Irish descent— and gave me a late pass, stamped with a time twenty-five minutes from now. Cool, plenty of time to shower.

I walked back to the locker room, timing my arrival just right. The last of the sixth period gym class girls was just running out to make it into the gym before the late bell went off. I had the locker room— and the showers— to myself.

I took my time showering. I'd never had the place all to myself before, and it was very cool that way. I could direct the spray from two showerheads at me, and I did, cranking both on as hot as I could stand it. I basked in it for a few minutes, before I finally started getting clean. I washed and rinsed my hair, soaped myself up good, and rinsed again. It was then that I realized what was wrong.

Soap on a cut stings. Even mild soap, and the school's wasn't all that mild. But the big welt-turned-cut on the outside of my left thigh had only been a little sensitive to the touch. I looked— and there was only a thin pink line of healing skin. Like it is when the scab has just fallen off to show a closed wound, you know?

I'd been bleeding twenty minutes ago! I knew that, I'd seen the blood, I'd worried about getting it on my green shorts. I'd seen the water run red for a few seconds, when I first got in the shower.

Now I wasn't bleeding. I didn't even have a cut anymore. Twenty minutes, maybe, since I'd been cut. Okay, yeah, it'd been a shallow cut, more of a long scratch. Still, those don't heal in twenty minutes!

Only it had. And… I knew where Belden had hit me. I bruise easy— _not_ because I'm a wimp, I'm just really fair-skinned!— and I'd already been bruising in seconds after each hit from Kurt Belden.

They were almost all gone, those bruises. Only one still there was the first (and would have been the worst), just under my left breast— and it was pale, not the deep purple ugly thing it should have been.

I finished cleaning up, dried off, and almost ran to the full-length mirror on the end of the line of lockers nearest mine.

I like looking at me. I'm pretty, even if I don't have much in the way of boobs, and I don't mind knowing that. (If I dug guys or could figure out whether the girls I liked also liked girls, I'd never lack for a date.) So I looked myself over all close-like.

Four feet, ten and a half inches and ninety-two pounds of classic Irish looks. Long red hair, hanging straighter from damp, now. As it dried, it would pick up some serious waviness, and not hang quite to the middle of my back, instead of just below the middle. Same face, my face. Oval, high cheekbones, big green-gold-hazel eyes, a kind-of-small nose (not upturned, thank God!), with just a few freckles across it and onto my cheekbones. A mouth I liked to think wasn't too wide or anything. Breasts that barely made it into the A-cup range, dammit. Tiny waist, good hips, annoyingly sparse pubic hair. (It hadn't gotten any thicker since I was twelve. I was gonna look perpetually younger than I am, 'cause of that and my size. Yay.) But I had good legs. Slender, not skinny. And I knew I had a nice butt, even. I liked how I looked, even as milk-white and basically boob-less as I am. Give me four inches of height, ten-plus pounds of mass and a cup size, and I'd be happy as hell with my looks.

Except that now I looked… better, really. See, I was a wannabe-jockette, remember? I was in pretty good shape. I had some firm muscle tone. No bodybuilder-type stuff, but no kind of soft or flabby.

Now I was sort of… cut. Sleek and big-cat-looking. Not a bodybuilder, or anything, but… maybe a gymnast. Not an Olympic one, but a girl who was into it enough to have that sleek, streamlined look.

"Okay," I said, after staring for a minute. "I'm still me. I'm just me after being cast as Trinity in the next Matrix movie, is all!"

I stared for another minute, trying to figure out how this connected to my newfound athletic skills, and that weird vision. Then I gave it up and got dressed.

I got to my sixth period English II class right when I should have, by the pass Mrs. Kelly gave me. Brian Keller was reading aloud from the last chapter of To Kill a Mockingbird when I came in, and he tossed me a thumbs up and a grin as I sat down.

I never got called on to read that day. I did get asked a couple of questions, once the reading was done, but Mr. Ogden knew I was really paying attention, and following what was happening, so he didn't "pick on" me like he did the class thuds.

Class pretty much flew by, while I tried to figure out what had happened to me. I damn near leaped out of my seat, when the bell rang for the end of the school day. I was the first out the door, and my buddy Brian had to about sprint to catch up with me at my locker.

"Rose!" Brian said as he opened his locker, which was right next to mine. "Rose, that was the most awesome thing I've ever seen in my life! You totally destroyed Belden! How did you do that!"

I stopped sorting books and just shoved them all into the locker. Then I relented, and grabbed my Algebra II book, knowing I could skip reviewing in every class but that one. I stared into my locker for a minute, trying to figure out what to say— then gave it up, and was honest.

"I don't have a _clue_ how I did it, Bri." I looked up at my best friend, and finally saw the swelling on the left side of his face, where he'd been hurt when Belden threw him. "Oh, geeze, Bri! Your face!"

"It only hurts when I talk, smile or move," Brian said. "I'll be okay."

"Yeah, but if your mom finds out you were fighting, she'll call my mom, and— "

"I'll tell her I fell in class," Brian said, embarrassed. His mother thought his every injury was deathly serious, and that I was a terrible influence on him, since I was "responsible" for a good number of injuries— by reason of him trying to help me avoid getting my ass kicked.

"You know, you don't have to keep doing that," I said. "And there's no point in both of us getting hurt."

"Hey! You're my friend! And you always leap in when I'm getting beat on!"

"Yeah," I said, finally grinning at him. "You know, I bet people think we're both nuts. Couple of brains— okay, you're a brain, and I'm almost a prodigy— like us, and we're still always in trouble for fighting. Aren't we geeks supposed to be the quiet type?"

"Probably," Brian said, as we started for the buses. "But you know, I figure— screw it! High school is gonna drive me insane, sure. But why go quietly insane, when going loudly insane is so much more fun?

"Hey— how did you avoid getting tossed out for fighting?"

I told him about my threatening to sue, and Brian laughed his way to the buses. At the door outside, Brian looked at Mr. Bannon, who teaches sophomore English, pointed at me, and said, "Meet Rosie Cochran, scourge of the courtroom!"

I laughed, socked his arm gently, and we walked out to his bus (Brian lived way over on the east edge of town, not the quarter mile from school that I usually walked.) There, I hesitated, then said, "I'm going to go see Sifu Archer, Bri. Maybe… maybe he can help me figure out…."

"Figure out if it's Bruce Lee or Brandon Lee that's possessing you?" Brian said. "Yeah, I get you. See you online?"

"If I can get at the computer, yeah." I hugged him briefly, and took off across the campus of Bloomington High School at a trot, thinking to try and catch a city bus to downtown.

Running felt… good. _Really_ good. I approached the city bus stop, saw the bus I wanted a block away, approaching— and I gave in to the feeling of running, and turned towards downtown Bloomington. It was only a couple of miles to Sifu Archer's school, and I felt like I could run… well pretty much forever.

I ran it. Dead out run. I didn't jog, I didn't trot. I _ran_. All the way, even catching all the lights and only having to detour around a turning car once.

I'm sure that I broke a record or two doing it.

When I turned into Archer's Kung Fu School… I was barely breathing hard. Not really sweating at all.

"Okay," I said as I stepped out of the sun and into the comfortable cool of the school, "this is just getting weird."

"What's getting weird, Rose?" Sifu Archer asked from his desk over in the back corner of the room. I hadn't seen him, while my eyes were adjusting. "Besides you cutting class to be here this fast."

"That's what's weird, Sifu," I said, dropping my backpack, taking my shoes off and bowing as I stepped into the school proper. "I didn't cut class. Not at all. I just… ran here."

"It's about two miles, Rose," Sifu Archer said. He stood, and I was again reminded of how small he is, barely six inches taller than me. "And school hasn't even been out ten minutes.

"I know, Sifu," I said. "I don't know how it happened— but I ran here. And that's not the first weird thing that's happened today, either."

I didn't wait for him to ask, I just showed him. I went straight into the most complex form I knew.

(For the non-martial artist; forms are practice exercises that are basically pretend fights. You learn combinations and stuff doing forms. And Sifu is a title, not a name. It's like "Sensei," only for Kung Fu practitioners.)

I'd never once done that form right all the way through going slow. This time, I did it at combat speed— and flawlessly.

Camden Archer was one of maybe three teachers I'd ever had for anything who never questioned a student getting something _right_, and he didn't change his pattern now.

"Wonderful!" he said, actually clapping. "Rose, I don't know what happened, but it seems you've gotten past whatever was keeping you back— whether it was physical or mental."

"You don't get it, Sifu Archer," I said. "It's not like that. It is, but— ! But it's way more than that."

"How do you mean?"

"Look at me, Sifu!" I moved through a couple of arm motions that showed the new definition in my arms. "I didn't look like this when I went to school. But there was… something. And then I looked like this, and I could fence, and I could fight, and… and… I feel so _good_! Like I could run all day, or pick up a car, or… I don't know, but it's weird."

"I hadn't noticed the tone," Sifu said, now sounding puzzled. "And you say you could fence, suddenly? And fight? Are you in trouble at school?"

Oops. I should have known that was coming. "Not really. I… got out of it, cause Coach Phelps is a dummy, and he hit me."

Lucky for me, Sifu didn't ask why Coach had hit me. He just looked at me, and nodded slowly.

"Rose, do something for me," Sifu said. "I want you to watch me."

Sifu Archer stretched a little, moved to the center of the mat— and exploded into a form I'd never seen before. It was full of jumping attacks, ground attacks, complex and powerful moves. It was probably the coolest Kung Fu form I'd ever seen.

When he was done, Sifu bowed off of the mat, then turned to me, and said, "Do it."

I gaped.

"Go on, Rose," Sifu Archer said. "Try it, at least. There's no penalty for failure— "

"But lack of trying is its own punishment," I said, finishing his favorite saying.

"Exactly."

I sighed, and moved off to the center of the mat. I thought back, recalled everything I'd seen Sifu Archer do.

I did the form, remembering all of it, I think. At least, if I forgot anything, Sifu Archer never told me. When I was done, Sifu was staring at me openly, mouth slightly open, eyebrows up so high they were flirting with his hairline.

"I've never seen… Rose, in competition I'd have given you a six-point-six, maybe a six-point-seven."

I gaped back. "That high? Sifu, no way! I know I made mistakes, lots— "

"They were mistakes that come from not having been actually taught all the moves that were part of the form," Sifu Archer interrupted. "Knowing that… I'd have to give you a nine-point-eight, because some of your footwork that you _do_ know was off."

I gaped more. _Nine-point-eight!_ "Oh, wow! Sifu, thank you!"

"Rose, maybe you'd better tell me what happened before you got… whatever it is you got," Sifu suggested.

So I did. I told him about the weird vision, the redhead, the axe-thing, the way she seemed to be doing a spell of some sort. And the way I felt… sort of connected to that axe-thing, for a second. And how I felt super-charged when the vision was all over. Then I told him about the drubbing I'd given Kurt Belden.

Then I bit the bullet, and told him about Coach Phelps grabbing me, surprising me— and what I did in response. Sifu Archer frowned a bit— but he didn't interrupt, or yell at me. When I finished up with how I finished off Belden, and what Coach did in response, Sifu seemed to relax.

"Rose… hitting Coach Phelps was ill-advised." Sifu grinned for a moment, and said, "But it's done. A man who'd talk to a student like that… well, we'll forget it, this time.

"Besides, a man who grabs a martial arts student like that has to expect there to be consequences. But don't do that again!"

"I won't, sir," I said. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost four, and people would start showing up for the four-thirty classes soon. "Sifu… do you have any idea what might have happened to me?"

"Not a clue, Rose," Sifu answered cheerfully. "And there's no time to explore it right now, students will start showing up any second.

"But I'll see what I can find out this evening, after I get home. I know someone who might be able to help. And I swear, there's something… familiar about all of this. Like I've heard about something like it."

I thanked Sifu Archer, hugged him (that surprised him, but he hugged back), and split for home, just as the first of the afternoon students came in.

Home. There was a potentially ugly scene.

I didn't want to talk about this. But I have to.

My Mom didn't like me, I thought. And my stepfather pretty much had zero use for me.

Oh, Mom loved me. She just didn't like me. And Jerry… he pretended to love me— but I don't think even Mom believed him.

See, Mom's a Good Catholic Girl. Good Catholic Girls don't have lesbian daughters. And they don't have lesbian daughters who don't believe in God, or Mother Mary, or… well, any of it. The daughters of Good Catholic Girls certainly aren't into exceptionally violent sports, Dungeons and Dragons, and wanting to be video game programmers.

And Jerry… ugh.

My Daddy died when I was nine. He was a fireman, and he died doing his job. He saved a little boy's life before he died, and he died _because_ he did that. I know that I was so proud of my Daddy that it _hurt_, and that dying saving a life was how he'd have wanted to go if he was given a choice.

So when my Mom started dating Jerry six months later, I was a lot upset. See, Daddy would have _hated_ Jerry. I thought that was wrong, dating a man so not like Daddy that Daddy would have hated him. When she married him, I was eleven… and I had to be forced to go to the wedding.

See, Jerry Wentworth was a lawyer. And he was a lawyer for a firm that's famous for taking criminal cases, and getting people who were screamingly guilty out of being convicted.

So my Mom married a bad guy. I was disgusted. My Daddy had been a definite good guy, he died a _hero_— and my Mom chose a slimy, sleazy lawyer for a second husband. I figured she might just as well go spit on Daddy's grave and be done with it.

Jerry never liked me. He pretended for the sake of keeping Mom happy— but it was just pretending, and we both knew it. He pretended to like me, and I pretended not to be plotting his very violent and messy death at every opportunity. It was a strange sort of peace, but it held, most of the time.

Then there was the last complication in my life. My step-sister, Laurie Wentworth.

See, Jerry was married before, too. His wife was killed by a serial killer that was haunting town from a little before my Daddy died to a couple of months after. And he was left to take care of Laurie by himself. Given that he's such a total cold fish… I still haven't figured out how Laurie came out so cool.

Yeah. I really, _really_ wanted to hate my stepsister, but I couldn't. Laurie is three years younger than me, and pretty much perfect. She's sweet, good-natured, pretty, smart and lots of fun to be around. She loves me as much as I love her. She loves my mom— even calls her "mother," sometimes. Laurie was pretty much all that had kept me from running away a bunch of times in the three and a half years that Mom and Jerry had been married.

And she didn't like her dad. Oh, she loved him, sure. But she didn't like him, and didn't blame me even a bit for not getting along with him. In fact, the only times I'd ever seen Laurie get punished in the time Mom and Jerry had been married had been the times she stuck up for me against her dad.

Cool, huh? I figure she must take after her mother. Like, _totally_. Heck, I sometimes wonder if Laurie's mom was _cheating_ on Jerry. (And if she was, I applaud her good taste!)

On the nice part of things… our house was great. Jerry made a fortune, and we lived out on Country Club Place, which, coincidentally enough, is right across from the Bloomington Country Club (where of _course_ Jerry and Mom were members in good standing). Big place, three full stories, built into a hill so it looked like two stories from the back. Laurie and I shared the third floor. The cleaning lady came three times a week, and most times she was up on our floor more often than Mom and Jerry. We were really left to ourselves up there, most times. It rocked. We each had a _big_ room, with our own computers and cable internet, and we each had a bathroom off our bedrooms. Laurie had a TV of her own, but I never was a TV person, so I had a good stereo— and I mean _really_ good! Five disc CD changer (which played CDs, CD/Rs, CD/RWs and MP3s) dual cassette, AM/FM stereo. And it was patched into my computer! (Thank you, Brian Keller!) I could make my own albums and stuff, and I did— a lot. I even had a DVD ROM on my computer, and a nifty little editing program that Brian got for me. I made my own music videos a LOT! Some I even put some online, in some clubs I belonged to.

Anyway, my bed was measured in acreage, and it was a canopy thing. I could've had an orgy in that bed. Or maybe two separate orgies, it was so big! (Not that I had, I was a virgin, then.) My computer desk turned at the corner and blended right into the entertainment center that my stereo was on. I had a walk-in closet big enough for a normal double bed and a little room leftover, a huge dresser/vanity with a makeup station that would have been at home in a Hollywood studio (and I rarely bothered to wear any makeup, to my Mom's annoyance), and the best part… I had a balcony! A big one, twelve feet deep and twenty feet wide, all my own, with my own choice of patio furniture out there. A big old oak tree provided shade from noon or so on, and I loved it out there.

So I got home at about four-thirty, with bus time home. I figured it was perfectly safe to go talk to Mom. (She worked in the local "Little Theater" on a part time basis, making posters and helping with promotional stuff. She was one of four paid employees in the whole place, until she married Jerry, and stopped taking a salary.) She was home by four most days, except when they were actually performing.

Mom was in the kitchen, making dinner. Pretty normal. What wasn't normal was the way Jerry was sitting at the table, watching the entry from the dining room like he was waiting to pounce.

"Hi, Mom," I said. "Hello, Jerry."

"Sit."

One word, and an order. Not a good sign from Jerry. Usually, he was… long-winded. Also, he didn't usually give me orders like that in front of Mom. So I sat at the other end of the table from him. Mom turned around, and I saw that she was pissed— big spots of color in her cheeks, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together. She looked like an evil stepmother, when she got that look. (Most times, she looked like an older [and taller, damn it!] me, but with black hair and fewer freckles.)

And Jerry? Handsome, yeah. Goldish-blond hair, just going white at the temples, strong features, neatly trimmed mustache. Big, but not heavy. He played racquetball, and was in really good shape for a fortyish guy. (Hey, being lesbian doesn't mean I can't judge handsome in guys— just means I'm not turned on by it!) His brown eyes were sharp, and he was pretty much looking as pissed as Mom.

"Your Assistant Principal called your mother this afternoon."

_Oh, shit! _

"HOW DARE YOU!" Jerry roared, bouncing to his feet and grabbing the edges of the kitchen table with both hands. He leaned forward, glaring at me with pretty much pure rage. "How _dare_ you threaten to sue that school, young lady! Do you realize that I work for a law firm? That your Mr. Dunlap assumed that my firm would be handling it, if you sued the school?"

"I never said that!" I protested. "I even said that you might not want me to sue, and I'd find a lawyer to do it anyway if you didn't!"

"That doesn't matter," Jerry said coldly. "His assumption was a logical one, Rose. And your mother and I are v_ery_ angry at you for even threatening such a thing! You should have just taken your punishment for what you did, and— "

"Screw that!" I shouted. I jumped up and matched Jerry's posture, gripping the edge of the table. "Did you listen to what Coach Phelps did to me? He called me names in front of the whole class, and he _hit_ me!"

"Because you were fighting again!" Jerry said. "What did we tell you would happen the next time you fought at school!"

"Nothing!" I countered. "What you told me was that the next time I _started_ a fight, I'd be grounded for three months, no internet, no Kung Fu."

(You don't live with a lawyer for three years without learning a thing or two!)

"Well, I didn't start it!" I continued. "Thirty people saw me trying to get out of the fight! I didn't even swing back when Belden first hit me!"

"You hit a teacher," Jerry said. "So I don't really care if you started it or not. You hit a _teacher_!"

"He grabbed me! Hard, it hurt!" I said. "And you know what a discipline fiend Sifu Archer is, how he insists that we don't fight if we can avoid it, or swing in anger! He knows about this, and he didn't toss me out of class! He said Coach Phelps should have known better!"

"I don't _CARE_!" Jerry roared.

Mom was starting to look less pissed, but my talking back to Jerry was just making him worse.

"Go to your room, young lady." Jerry said. "I'll be up in a minute to dismantle your internet connection. And we'll discuss the rest of your punishment then."

"Like hell we will!" I snarled. I had finally reached the point of having had enough of that pompous prick. "There won't be any punishment! I'm telling you right here and now that if you try and punish me I WILL SUE _YOUR_ ASS!"

Dead silence for almost thirty seconds.

"Yeah," I said, breathing hard and heavy like I'd just run a marathon. "That's right. I will. I will sue your stupid ass, report you to the Department of Children and Family Services, all of it. That'll look real good to your big bosses at the firm, right?"

"You wouldn't dare," Jerry said, sounding very cautious now. "You know you'd never dare to do that…."

He sounded unsure, and I knew I'd won. So naturally, I snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

"Try me, shyster!"

He turned red, and I knew I'd gone too far with the "shyster" thing. Before I could even try to think of a way of apologizing for it, Mom was back to full pissed-off face. She'd been looking like she was sympathizing with me, but now I'd screwed that up. Me and my big mouth.

"Go to your room, Rose Erin Killian!" Mom snapped. "Whatever else happens tonight, you _will_ be punished for speaking to your father that— "

That's when I _really_ lost it.

"DON'T YOU _EVER_ CALL HIM MY FATHER!" I screamed. "Don't you _EVER_!"

After that _stunning_ display of maturity, I ran up the stairs, crying, charged into my room, slammed the door and flung myself on the bed. I grabbed Talbot (my stuffed wolf— the last present Daddy ever gave me) and cried for a while.

After half an hour, I was cried out— and worried. Jerry was a freak and a loser— but he was a lawyer. I needed a way to be sure he'd leave me alone. So I got online and found that Brian was on, just like I'd known he would be. I sent him a message on Yahoo IM, and he responded right away. I told him what I wanted, and why— and he agreed to it, with many a big grin smiley for emphasis.

About an hour after I went in my room, the door opened. I was laying down again by then. Hoping it was Mom, I rolled over, ready to apologize and take my lumps.

It was Jerry, and he had a tool kit in one hand, a computer toolkit.

"Your internet is gone until further notice." He stepped in and kicked the door closed. "You're grounded for a month. And you will apologize to me in front of your mother and sister for that shyster comment."

I didn't say a word. I didn't nod. I didn't look him in the eye. I gave him nothing.

"And you will call me father in front of my family, when they visit."

"Like hell!" I said. "You are not my father, you will never be my father, and to be really stupid but totally honest— like my Daddy would want me to be, cause he used to say he'd rather have a stupid child than a liar— you will never, _ever_ be fit to lick my Daddy's boots!"

Jerry dropped the toolkit and stared at me, his chin down on his chest, his eyes as big around as tennis balls. Then he turned red in the face, and started walking towards me.

I got up off of the bed and waited, just standing there.

"That's it," Jerry said in a soft voice. "That's the last straw, you stupid little brat. I've been being patient with you— but that's it! You're going to get the punishment you should get, and you're going to get it right _now_!

"I'm going to spank you so hard you won't sit for a week!"

"Bets?" I asked.

He reached out to grab me, and I moved. His hands descended for my shoulders, and I snapped both my wrists up and out against his forearms. Then I fired off a pair of punches, one at his face and one at his crotch— and stopped both a fraction of an inch from actually hitting him.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen now," I said. I was thinking that not hitting him was the only way out of this.

"Bitch!" Jerry snarled, and tried to grab my right arm. I did a simple deflection block, turning my shoulder and arm out of his way and pushing his hand right on past me. And I kicked, stopping my foot a quarter inch from his ribs.

"You're going to go back downstairs," I said, stepping past him so he couldn't corner me. "You're going to tell mom I apologized and that you felt bad for blowing your cool, and decided that no punishment was necessary."

"Like hell!" Jerry snarled.

This time, he tried to kick me! I _so_ wasn't letting that happen! I went inside the kick, right close up, and again showed him that I could nail his nads if I really wanted to.

"So, you need to get out of my room right now, Jerry, or I'm back to suing your stupid ass."

"Screw you, brat!" He tried again to grab me, and I decided he wasn't going to get it, unless I showed him I really, really could hurt him. "Your mother w—urk!""

I let the jerk grab my left wrist with his right hand, clamped my right hand over his, then twisted my right hand over and applied pressure on _his_ wrist. Jerry hit his knees a second later, his face a peculiar mix of ghost white and blotchy red, like he couldn't decide whether to be scared or pissed.

I kept the pressure up, and forced him down on one hand and his knees, and he snarled, "You're never going to see daylight again you stupid little bitch! You'll be grounded as long as you live in this house, I'll— "

"Smile!" I said, still holding him down. "You're on Candid Camera!"

Jerry froze. Then he looked around wildly— and saw that the red "transmit" indicator on my webcam was lit.

"My friend Brian has been recording that camera's output on the highest quality he could," I said sweetly. "And he's simultaneously re-transmitting it to several of his friends around the country, and even a couple in Europe and Australia.

"So… we're done, Jerry. You're going to go back downstairs and do just like I said— or I'm going to see to it that DCFS, the McLean County Sheriff's Department and your bosses at the law firm get that video. I'm betting I never have to look at you again, if that happens."

"You… you're bluffing," Jerry said, looking up at me from where I'd forced him down.

I had the speakers turned up, and the Yahoo Messenger window and text font set as large as I could get them. So Jerry heard the "bling" of an incoming message— and saw Brian's sent, "Wanna bet, ass-goblin!" pop up on the screen.

I let go of him then, and Jerry got slowly to his feet. He didn't look at me, _wouldn't_ look at me. He just picked up the tool kit and started for the door. I waited until he had his hand on it, and I said his name. He stopped, but didn't look back.

"Two more things," I said. "First, if you ever come in this room again, I'll see that that video gets out. Second… if you ever put a hand on me again, you're going to go to jail— in an _ambulance!_ Got it?"

He still didn't look at me— but he nodded, so slowly and stiffly that I actually heard his tendons creak.

He closed the door, and I sat on my bed and shook. After a few seconds, I heard the insistent "bling" of the messenger window, and looked around to see that Brian had sent "you okay?"

"I'm fine, Bri." I said it loud enough that my microphone would pick it up. "Hey, thanks, man. You saved my butt this time."

"All part of the service," he sent. "You sticking around online?"

"No, I'm going out," I said, walking over and shutting off the camera. I kept the microphone on long enough for him to hear me say, "I can't stand to be in the house with him, not now." Then I shut it off, and typed a good-bye in Messenger, before I shut it down, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 3

_Elaine:_

After that thing in English Lit with Jeff Hughes, I was fully expecting Kimber to corner me after school, asking me questions I didn't have the answers to.

She didn't wait that long, just caught me at my locker between classes. I closed my locker and suddenly I was face-to-face with a _very_ stormy best friend-former-lover. "Elaine, _what happened?"_

"I don't know." I sighed, shook my head and repeated it. "I don't know, Kimber."

"How do you not know how you tossed a guy twice your size around like he was nothing!" Kimber trotted after me as I started walking toward the girls locker room to change for my dance class— which I took instead of gym, another bonus to a private school. _"Hey!_ Dancer-long-legs, wait up!"

"It was weird," I said, slowing down a little. "Really… weird. I had this blackout thing, and I saw this girl…."

I explained what I had seen, the redhead with her hair suddenly going white, and the axe. Kimber listened patiently, then shook her head.

"_Sounds_ like a spell. A real one, not the lame-oid crap that's all I can do, which, okay, probably doesn't even work. The lady wasn't familiar at all?"

"Not at all." I stopped completely, turning to face my best friend. "Look, Kimber, I have to get to my dance group; I don't want to be late, Miss Sorenson will make me run laps. But… do me a favor? You're the magic-oriented one, could you do some kind of research on the axe thing?"

Kimber shook her head— not in response to my request, but just in frustration. "It would help if you could read lips, tell me what the lady was saying. I'll do what I can, though— an axe, right?"

"Something that looked a lot like one," I agreed. "Or, you know, an axe from some freaky fantasy movie. It was red and silver, I remember that. Not painted red, either, red metal."

She nodded, already preoccupied with thoughts about how to find this axe, tossed me a wave, and jogged off.

I ran the rest of the way to the girls' locker room and got into my leotard, then went into the gym.

Class was good. Dancing has always de-stressed me, and it did it today, taking my mind right off of that weird vision, and the way I'd jerked Moose-boy Hughes around like a rag doll. Then my attention got jerked back to the… changes, I guess, but in a good way.

I love to dance. I'd have taken a shot at ballet for real— but, while my legs are strong, I've got weak ankles. So I'm always very careful while dancing, waiting for any sign of stress, then sort of… taking it easy. Miss Sorenson knew about my ankles, had treated me with enough icepacks over the last two years that she knew if I slowed down, it was because my ankles were feeling wobbly, and she never said a word. Part of that is that she knew I love dancing, and would never slow down before I had to, and the rest of it just that she's a good teacher, and can tell tired-sore from faking it.

We tried a few ballet moves that day, incorporating them into what Miss Sorenson called "freestyle" dancing— moves from everything we could absorb, put together our way for our final exam. She watched me carefully as we started these, knowing I loved ballet, and might push myself too hard because I loved it, wanted to do it. We both got a surprise.

My ankles didn't collapse when landing on the _tour jetes._ They didn't wobble when I pirouetted _en pointe_. When I did a full-on ballet series, ended with a _grand jeté en tournant_ (big jump while [or with] turning— but it all has to be in foreign languages to be artistic, right?) and didn't collapse afterwards— hell didn't collapse _during_ it— I really don't know who was more freaked out, me or Miss Sorenson.

"Elaine! That was wonderful!" Miss Sorenson hugged me, and I felt a guilty flush, because Jeff Hughes, while an asshole, was right— Tandy Sorenson was just freaking gorgeous, and that hug made me way too aware of her body. "Those exercises we found for your ankles must finally be helping! Oh, honey, this is great. No more holding back for you! Next year, you can dance like you want— and the rest of this year, too, I'll bet."

I grinned, hugged back briefly, praying she wouldn't notice my traitorous nipples, which had gotten hard the moment she hugged me, and said, "Yeah. Maybe I can even make my exam dance what I want it to be!"

I finished the class, and went to shower, thinking that maybe whatever mutation had suddenly fallen on my head might actually be a good thing.

Despite my sexual preference, I had never been self-conscious about undressing in front of other girls. I knew I was attractive enough, but that wasn't it. It just… didn't bother me. Somehow, it just didn't.

So I changed out in the open, near the full-length mirrors… and _that_ gave me quite a shock.

I still looked the same. I mean, I looked like _me… _all my definite features still there. Shiny black hair that curled softly under, hanging a couple of inches below my shoulders. Slightly angular face, without looking too harsh. Good cheekbones, small nose, kissable lips. Big blue eyes with long black lashes. Nice breasts, B-cups and… well, "perky." I took after my mother in this regard, and with all the moving I did, I considered this more of a blessing than a curse— C or D cups would probably not be good for a dancer. Small waist, good hips and butt, big enough to be attractive, not big enough to make me unattractive as a dancer. Toned, muscled legs.

I had always had a dancer's build. Now it was like I had _the_ dancer's build.

My arms, which had never been very strong— I'd never done things like climbing trees as a little girl; I'd concentrated on dancing, which was really good for legs but not anything like as good for arms— seemed toned as well. And I was sure I saw a little more muscle on my body, overall, than I was used to seeing.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, then turned away, flushing deeply— not just with embarrassment at how long I'd been staring, but with a little anger, as well. I didn't know what was happening to me, and while it didn't seem like a _bad_ thing, per se… I just, I didn't _know._ And I didn't like not knowing.

By the time I'd changed back into my school clothes, freaking out was done with. It wasn't like me. Then again, getting all super-ballerina and tossing around bullies with my bare hands wasn't like me, either, so I suppose I had an excuse.

I didn't want to head straight home— I had no reason to, my parents were out of town until the next Monday. Dad had a huge seminar to attend (he was a bigwig at State Farm Insurance, so big that I didn't even really remember his title, let alone understand his job) and it was in Orlando, where Mom's parents lived, so she'd gone with him to visit Gram and Grandpa. So I did the next best thing to going home, and went to a bookstore. I love to read, so Barnes and Noble's is practically my favorite place on Earth.

I was there for more than two hours, reading. I read a couple of comic-book trade paperbacks, where they put a whole storyline in one book, and poked through the new age section idly, hoping that a book explaining exactly what had happened to me would just sort of fall into my hands— no such luck.

Even after I decide to leave my second home, I didn't head straight home, or off to a restaurant— but I didn't hang out at the normal teenager haunts, either. What can I say? I wasn't too normal even then… plus I didn't feel like getting harassed any more that day.

Where's the only place a teen could keep from getting harassed these troubled times? Not to be cliché or anything, but the only place is where most teens don't go. Which meant a church— none of which I belonged to, and none of which I really felt like visiting for no explainable reason— or….

The cemetery. The one I liked best was the one across from Miller Park.

Creepy, right? Here's a secret, though: I liked the place. I mean, I wasn't afraid of ghosts or anything, and it was _nice_ there. Trees, grass, peace and quiet. Nobody to bother me. Nobody at all, most of the time.

So I headed for the cemetery. Fifteen years old, in a white-and-cobalt school uniform, and trying to come to grips with my new superpowers. Pretty little dancer. Or, you know, pretty not-so-little dancer.

Even after the workout at dance, I wanted to move. Wanted to run. Shouldering my backpack, I started into a trot— then sped up, into a full-out run. I knew I wouldn't be able to run the whole way there, but for now, it was wonderful just to feel the wind in my face and hear the rhythmic pounding of my feet on the sidewalk.

I didn't even think about things too much. I slowed down when I saw the bus stop at Front and Main, and then it really hit me. I had run all the way there. More than a couple of miles, and I had _run,_ full out, all the way to that bus stop!

I heard the familiar diesel roar of a city bus behind me, glanced back and saw that it was the Red B, which would take me to Miller Park, right across from my favorite cemetery.

I slowed even further, to a dawdling walk. I blinked. I debated freaking out, then decided against it. Hey, I'd _tossed around a big guy— _not to repeat myself, but _holy crap!— _and was suddenly capable of ballet, after years of wishing. Running this much of a distance was a surprise, but not a total shock to my system anymore.

I hopped on the bus when it stopped, hopped off at Miller Park, and started across the park towards Park Hill Cemetery.

I'd already decided I didn't want to go home before dark, so I had about an hour to waste before even _thinking_ of heading in that direction. It may be a little morbid, but I'd always enjoyed looking at headstones and epitaphs and stuff on graves.

So that's what I did for about fifteen minutes. Wandered around, looking at graves. I was glad no one was there to see me, apparently a gloomy little schoolgirl gawking at dead people's final resting places. I couldn't exactly get into trouble for it, but I —

My thoughts cut off mid-sentence. There _was_ someone there.

A girl in a skirt was on a bench in front of a grave. I blinked and started to backtrack, then noted the movement of her shoulders: she was crying. Quietly, but still crying.

None of my business. Some girl visiting a relative-slash-friend's grave. Absolutely nothing to do with me; I didn't even know her, I could tell that even from the back. (I could _never_ have forgotten that hair— though I admit, I saw the red hair, and before I realized it was wavy, almost wild, I thought of the girl in my vision— but her hair had been straight, and a little darker red.) I should leave.

So instead, I walked over, sat beside her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Bright, huh?

Only it turned out okay. _Better_ than okay!

She opened her eyes as she turned to look at me, and I guess we stared at each other for a second. I mean— I know I was staring at her, anyway. And she didn't say anything either….

She was tiny, but gorgeous. I mean movie-star gorgeous. Her skin was milky white, and totally without blemishes. She had long, deep-but-brilliant red hair, very wavy, hanging to the middle of her back in a big, thick ponytail. Big, green-gold eyes over high cheekbones, a nose that was small and cute— and spattered with a few freckles, across it and her cheekbones. Her mouth was… generous. Not too wide, but wide— and even with her having been crying, that mouth looked ready to smile. She wore a pale green blouse over breasts that were… okay, pretty small— but somehow they looked good on her, those maybe-A-cups. A short, Kelly-green pleated skirt wrapped around her small waist, and even with her sitting down I liked her legs— slender and graceful, but not skinny. And knew I'd like her butt, just from a brief glimpse from behind, and that with her sitting down. She was younger than me— twelve, at a guess— but still… gorgeous!

I realized I was staring, and I repeated myself, since she hadn't answered. I found that I really did want to know if she was okay, not just asking for form's sake. I squeezed her shoulder as I asked, trying to let her know I really cared.

"I… I think I am," the other girl said. "Yes, I— I'm sorry, I just— oh, hell! Yes, I'm okay. It's just… I guess it's just been a bad day, is all, and it all sort of caught up with me.

"Um, hi. I'm Rose. Rose Killian." She offered me her hand, and I took mine off of her shoulder to shake hers.

"I'm Elaine Marshall," I said. "Believe me, Rose… I definitely understand about the bad day!"

I smiled at Rose, and I swear, her eyes widened a little and she kind of blinked— and I _knew_ all of the sudden that she was as much a lesbian as me, and that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

I think that's when I fell in love with her.


	4. Chapter 4

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 4

_Rose:_

After I shut down the messenger program, I used the bathroom, washed my face, brushed and pony-tailed my hair, and put on a skirt and blouse combination before going downstairs. That gave Jerry a total of twenty minutes to talk to Mom.

Downstairs, Mom was in the kitchen. Jerry was nowhere to be seen, but Laurie was in the kitchen, helping Mom cut vegetables up for salad. I nodded at her, and she winked at me. So I figured it was safe to talk.

"Mom?" I said. "I'm sorry I yelled. It's just— it's been a bad, bad day, and I don't have a lot of temper control left. And I'm sorry I was swearing."

"It's forgotten," Mom said. Her voice told me she meant it. (Nice thing about Irish tempers— they flare hard, but forgive quickly.)

"Thanks," I said, and hugged her from behind for a second. "I'm afraid I killed my appetite, though. I'm going to go for a walk, and maybe clear my head. Is that okay?"

"I don't see why not," Mom said. "If you're willing to eat reheats later, that's fine. Just be back by nine.

"And Rose? When did you start putting on a skirt to go for a walk?"

"I'll be back by nine. And… I like to wear a skirt sometimes, is all." I squeezed Mom again— I do love her, we just couldn't get along back then— kissed Laurie on the cheek, and went out the back door. The dentist who lived behind us on Washington Street was cool, didn't mind if me and Laurie cut through his yard to get to Washington. The bus did stop out here, even though this was "Rich Man's Row," because Washington was a major thoroughfare. But on Country Club Place? Puh-leeeze! Nothing so pedestrian as a commuter bus would be allowed on its hallowed asphalt….

(And if you're waiting for me to apologize for the pun in that last line— NOT!)

I strolled to the corner of Washington and Mercer and stood waiting for the bus. I figured that Mom knew perfectly well why I had put on a skirt. She wouldn't approve— but she'd let it go.

I put on a skirt because I had always been my Daddy's girl— and I liked to dress like a girl when I went to talk to him. And oh, did I need to talk to him now!

Yeah, I know what you're thinking… I'm nuts. Back then, I probably wouldn't have argued too much. I mean… I always, always felt better after going to Daddy's grave, and… well, talking to him. And I always heard him answer. I used to think that was all in my head. But now… well, I know that a lot of things are a lot more true than most people believe. I mean— well, if there really are vampires (and on that one I'm _certain_), then is it such a stretch to believe in ghosts?

Well, whether or not you believe in ghosts— I do. Now, at least.

Anyway, I caught the bus to Miller Park, and I strolled through the park from where I got off of the bus to the crossing at Morris Avenue. I had to wait a long time there, before it was safe to cross to the cemetery where Daddy is buried. He's way back in a corner, away from the road, and under a big old maple tree. It was quiet, clean, and always comfortably cool, even in the middle of summer. With it being just eighty out when I got to the cemetery, it was closer to seventy back in Daddy's corner.

I knelt there in front of his headstone, suddenly conscious of the fact that the skirt I'd chosen was shorter than Daddy would have liked me wearing. I tried (unsuccessfully) to adjust it for a bit more modesty while I said, "Hi, Daddy. It's Rose. I had a bad day, and I really need to talk to somebody. Weird things are happening, and I don't understand them, or why they're happening to me."

I talked until the sun was low in the sky, told Daddy everything that had happened from gym class on through leaving the house. He listened, as patiently as always (he was always patient with me, even when he was alive), and didn't interrupt me.

"So now I'm way faster and more coordinated than I was, Daddy. And… I think a _lot_ stronger. Jerry… walking him to the ground with that armlock shouldn't have been _that_ easy. He's a jerk, but he's in good shape.

"Anyway… Daddy, I guess I'm scared. I don't understand what's happening to me, and I'm just scared. It doesn't seem like a bad thing, Daddy, I know that— but I don't know what it's _for_, and that's scary.

"Jerry… I don't know how much longer I can put up with him, Daddy. He's… he's a dickhead! Mom sometimes sees it, I know, I see it in her face, but—"

_Softly, Rose,_ Daddy said. _Softly, my girl. Such language isn't for young ladies._

"I'm sorry," I said, closing my eyes, and letting that feeling that Daddy was here, was right beside me, get that much stronger for lack of distractions. "But Daddy… I hate to lie to you, and that's just what he _is_."

_Let's table that miscreant for a while, Rose Erin,_ Daddy said. _This other thing that's bothering you… I can see where that could be scary, honey— but only if you let it._

"I don't know, Daddy," I said. "I don't think I'm _letting_ it do anything— it's just…."

_It's just that Ireland's Flower hates not knowing things,_ Daddy said, teasing me a little. _And she always has hated it. Well… maybe I can help, Rose. I can't tell you exactly what's happened to you, but… I can tell you something._

"I'm listening."

_All right, then._ Daddy's "voice" settled deeper into the maple tree's long shadow, as though he were settling back against its trunk. _Listen well, Rose. _

_You've been given a gift by… someone. The Powers That Be, let's call them. A gift of strength, speed, and toughness. Yes, all right— a sudden change, and not knowing why it happened… I guess that is a little scary. _

_But that's a temporary thing, that scared, Rose. You'll get over it— I think you're mostly over it already, an' the truth be known— and you'll realize that it isn't a bad thing. So once you've made that leap… what are you going to do, Rose Erin?_

"I… don't know, Daddy." I sighed, and shook my head. The ground was getting uncomfortable, so I moved up to a stone bench that sat a few feet from Daddy's headstone. "I've been too scared or too mad to think that far ahead."

_So think on it now, darling daughter mine,_ Daddy said. _I'm betting it won't take long for you to get where you need to go._

I did as he asked. I thought about the things I could suddenly do— and the things I could learn to do. And I thought about where I was, and why I was talking to my Daddy _here_, in a graveyard, instead of in our old house over by Fairview Park, or at the fire station where he'd worked.

"Do you think I could maybe use this to help people?" I licked my lips, and thought it through. "Daddy… do you think that's what it's _for_?"

_Tell the truth an' shame the Devil._ Daddy's voice was smug, and proud, like I'd done what I should do, and he was proud of me. _I know that's what it's for, my Emerald Rose. That's _all_ it's for. To help people, Rose. Nothing else._

_Listen now, girl o' mine; the world is a more strange an' wondrous place than you've believed. Some of those strange and wondrous things… they're a bit more on the line of strange and frightening, Rose. And you've been given the power to help people against the frightening things, dear one. _

_It makes me more proud than any words could ever say that you… thought of that yourself, Rose. And it makes me sad to say that there are some who've been given this power who don't care about helping people— and at least one who'll be actively disdainful of it. _

_So you remember three things, Rose; remember that this power is for the good. Remember that no matter how frightening things get, you won't be alone, not after tonight. And remember, darling daughter o' mine, that I love you more than anything so small as dying could ever change… and I'm as proud of you as you were of me!_

I was crying by then, not sobbing, but crying. It was a funny crying, because it was all mixed up in sad and happy and proud— and scared of the responsibility I'd just been handed.

"Oh, Daddy, I love you," I said. "But… what did you mean about… about someone actively not wanting to help people? And about—"

_There'll be at least one like you who will use her power for her own good, and no one else's, Rose. _ Daddy sounded sad. _And… well, she's just a badly broken girl, Rose. Rose, remember… some things can't be fixed. Some wrongs can't be made right. For some people, there is no atonement… at least, none that they will take. _

"I'll try to remember, Daddy." I hesitated, then asked about the other thing I wasn't sure of. "And what did you mean I won't be alone after tonight?"

_I meant that while sometimes it seems as though the good of others is all that's on the mind of the Powers That Be,_ Daddy said, _sometimes, my dear, they can be kind. _

"I still don't understand, Daddy," I said. "You're being all mysterious again, aren't you?"

_Perhaps I am, just a bit,_ Daddy admitted, sounding amused. _Or perhaps you'll see what I mean, in just a few seconds._

"What, am I going to meet the girl of my dreams?" I asked.

_Could be, my Emerald Rose,_ Daddy said, sounding smug. _Could well be. _

_Be true, Rose. Stand your ground and be true— and remember how much I love you! _

_Good-bye for now, Rose Erin. _

"Good-bye, Daddy."

I sat there with my eyes closed, crying almost silently for a few seconds. Then I felt someone sit down beside me, a hand landed gently on my shoulder, and a quiet voice said, "Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes to see the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen sitting right next to me.

She was white, thought not the milk-white that I am— she had some color, though nothing like a tan. She was taller than me even sitting down— and even sitting down, I could see that she had a great body! Slender and tight, with breasts that were probably B-cups, a small waist, and hips that told me I'd probably really like looking at her butt.

Her face was angular (but not harsh at all) and… well, gorgeous. It balanced. All the parts went with all the other parts. Her eyes were blue, a rich, deep blue, like the sky just before night really takes hold over where the sun went down. She had full lips, naturally red, and that hair! It was black, and glossy, and it came down to her shoulders in this thick cascade that made me think of the way a stream looks at night, when you're a long way from city lights. You know how the water is so black it shines, and reflects the stars? That was her hair. I wanted to run a hand through it, and if I hadn't been so… surprised, I guess, I probably would have, and damn the embarrassment factor!

As it was, I only stared long enough that she said it again.

"Hey, are you okay?" Her voice was warm and honest. She really did care, she wasn't just asking to be polite. Her hand was still resting on my shoulder, and now it squeezed just a little— and for whatever reason, that brought me to my senses.

"I… I think I am," I said. "Yes, I— I'm sorry, I just— oh, Hell. Yes, I'm okay. It's just… I guess it's just been a bad day, is all, and it all sort of caught up with me.

"Um, hi. I'm Rose. Rose Killian."

"I'm Elaine Marshall," she said in reply. "Believe me, Rose… I definitely understand about the bad day!"

She smiled at me, then— and I really think that it was that moment when I fell in love with her.


	5. Chapter 5

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 5

_Rose: _

I stared at Elaine for a second before my brain registered what she was saying. In my defense, I was having a weird day, and I was sort of shaken.

Remember when I said I came and talked to Daddy sometimes, and he always answered me? Well, I'm not so thick as to think he did, all the times I came. Those had been me, telling me the things I knew my Daddy would say, using the memory of his voice. I knew that, okay? Not stupid, me!

This time had been different. This time had been… real.

This time had been Daddy. Not me. _My Daddy_. He came and he answered me, told me things I could never have known, when I needed to know them. There was an afterlife, and my Daddy still existed, and he cared enough to come back and tell me things when I was really hurting.

I had super-powers for a reason. That reason was to help people— very much a good thing to my mind.

Then there was the one thing he'd said to me: "_Remember that no matter how frightening things get, you won't be alone, not after tonight." _

And here I was staring at the most gorgeous girl I'd ever been so physically close to, a girl who seemed to be staring back at me just as intently as I was at her.

Of course I hoped it was her that was going to be the reason I wouldn't be alone anymore! I did say I'm not stupid, right?

Finally, I got myself under a little control, and spoke.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't normally sit and cry here. But… well, yeah, seriously bad day. But… well, I feel better, now. Thanks for asking."

Elaine looked sideways at Daddy's headstone and said, "Michael Killian… was that your dad, Rose?"

"Yeah," I said softly. "That was Daddy. I come here to talk to him when it gets to be… too much. You know?"

"I understand, I think," Elaine said. "I mean… why you'd come here. I don't pretend I could know what it feels like, losing your dad. If you'd rather be alone…?"

"Oh, no!" I said. "Not really. I mean… if you go, I'll sit here and get depressed again, and that's not a good thing. Stay? Please?"

Elaine smiled (my heart skipped a beat in response) and turned to sit sideways on the bench so we could talk more easily.

"I don't have anywhere to be until bedtime," Elaine said. "I'll stay, sure."

"You go to the Winston Academy?" I asked, having already noted the uniform. "What's it like over there?"

"It's okay," Elaine said. "I'd almost rather go to a public school, but Winston does have a dance program. That I can take instead of PE, I mean."

"You dance?" I said. "Okay, that shouldn't be a surprise, you're built for it. Legs on up to your chin, my Daddy would say."

Elaine blushed, but she smiled too, and didn't look away from me.

"I go to BHS," I continued, using the dirt-common abbreviation for Bloomington High School. "We've got a dance class, too, this year— partly because of you guys, but mostly because of Normal Community High School having one. The spirit of competitiveness, and all that."

"Also known as 'anything NCHS has, we have to have?' " Elaine guessed, on seeing my wry expression.

"You got it."

"So… do you dance?" Elaine asked. "You've got to do something athletic, the shape you're in. You're probably in better shape than me."

"That would be pretty hard," I said. "You look… great."

"Well, so do you. _Do_ you dance?"

"Only socially— and not all that well. The conditioning is from fencing and martial arts."

"My dad used to try to get me to take karate," Elaine said, "but dancing didn't leave me enough time for it, back then."

"I take Kung Fu downtown," I said. "Tiger and Leopard styles. It's a lot of fun. And… well, it came in handy today."

"You got in a fight?" Elaine asked. She didn't sound shocked, more… understanding. Like maybe she had, too.

"Yeah." I shook my head. "Not too bright, but… well, I won. First time that's ever happened."

"So you haven't been at the Kung Fu all that long?" Elaine guessed.

"No, I've been at it for three years," I said.

"Wow," Elaine said. "I'd heard BHS— you did say BHS, not BJHS, right?— was tough, but I didn't realize that it was that tough!"

"It's BHS, I'm a sophomore," I said, and blushed dark. "I'm only fourteen, though— I skipped a grade.

"But really, BHS isn't that tough a school. It's just that… see, I've been at the kung fu for three years. I should have my red sash— equivalent of a black belt— but before today, I just never could… I could do the moves, one at a time, sometimes in pairs— but I couldn't make it all come together, you know? Then today, something weird happened, and… well, I know I'll pass the red sash test on Friday. Yesterday, I didn't think I would, and today I know I will."

" 'Something weird,' huh?" Elaine asked lightly. She was teasing me— but she was smiling, and she was obviously teasing in a friendly way, not a mean way. "I don't suppose it involved a redhead and an axe-looking thing?"

My eyes widened 'til I thought they were going to pop right out of my head, and I think Elaine thought I was… mad or freaked or something, for a second. Then I managed to say something, finally.

"Yes!" I almost yelled. "Yes, and there was a flash of light and her hair turned white!"

For a long moment, Elaine just stared at me, her eyes widening to match mine. Finally, she spoke, though it was barely a whisper.

"And now you're all strong and tough and fast, aren't you?" She was staring at me, but it was a good stare, a stare that had… hope, I guess. Hope that she wasn't alone in the weirdness. "And you don't know what happened or why either, do you?"

"Well, I… have an idea," I said slowly. "Elaine, do you… do you believe in ghosts?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "I do."

"Well… I came here to talk to Daddy," I said slowly, watching her face, willing her to not think I was all nuts. "Only thing is… Elaine, he answered me, this time. Him, not… not me pretending it was him, you know?"

"I understand," she said. "He told you what this is? What it's all about?"

"Not exactly," I said. "But… he gave me a very general idea."

"Then what is it for?" Elaine asked. "Why are we like this?"

"It's to help people," I said. "Daddy said that the world is full of more strange and frightening things than I'd have believed, before. And that I— we!— have this power so that we can help people against those things. That the… The Powers That Be— " I put capital letters on that, just like the ones I'd heard in Daddy's voice when he said those words. "— that they gave us the power for the good. And that I'd— " I stopped there, not wanting to say what I was thinking. Daddy had promised I wouldn't be alone, and I so badly wanted Elaine to be as much into girls as I am that it was almost painful.

"Well, the rest was a little personal," I finished lamely. "But… he also said that there was one like m—us!— one like _us_ who wouldn't use the power the way it's meant to be used."

"Oh," Elaine said softly. She reached out and took my hand, moving slow, like she was giving me time to dodge. I didn't dodge it, I met her halfway, and just touching her hand made me shiver in a very good way. She laced her fingers through mine, and looked me in the eyes. " 'Like us.' I… like that. Not that there's one like us that's bad, or whatever, but the 'like us.' That there's… someone else who's got this. And I'm glad it's someone I like."

"Me too," I said, only it was closer to a whisper. I was trying to figure out if I should hug her, or maybe even kiss her, when the fecal matter impacted on the rotary-oscillating air circulation device. (I was remembering Daddy not liking my swearing, so I shied away from "when the shit hit the fan.")

"Aw, ain't this cute," said a sarcastic voice behind me.

I half-turned to see a blond guy in his late teens standing in the circle of light from one of the streetlights in the cemetery. It was obviously later than I thought, the sun was down, which made it about seven-thirty or quarter to eight. Even as I opened my mouth to see what the jerk wanted, a second guy stepped out beside him, this one with black hair.

"Damn, Jake," the black-haired guy said. "Two pretty girls in the cemetery at night. Should we ask them out?"

"Yeah, Dave." The first guy, the blond, gave us what was supposed to be a charming smile, I think, and said, "You two lovely ladies… would you like to have dinner with my friend and I?"

"Sorry, man," I said, responding on autopilot to a proposition from a guy. "I'm strictly lesbian."

Then I realized what I'd said— and, more potentially embarrassing, whom I'd said it in front of.

I shot a look at Elaine— and she was smiling a little smile, and looking… well, relieved, I thought.

"Me, too," she said— only she wasn't talking to the guys at all. She was talking strictly to me. "I only date girls."

"Aw, man," Dave, the black-haired one said. He seemed the follower type. "That so sucks. I was just wondering if all that stuff you see online about private school girls was maybe true, you know?"

I was so busy staring into Elaine's eyes that I didn't even react to the insult to her. I was just… lost in the best place I'd ever been.

"It's okay," the blond said. "I mean, if they don't want to have dinner. . . maybe they'll _be_ dinner!"

I looked up at that, planning on kicking this idiot's ass because he was getting way more crude than I could ignore— and both guys' faces _changed!_

They both changed, and it happened fast. Their foreheads sort of swelled, got bumpy, and their noses got these ridges over them. Their eyes turned a really bright and nasty shade of yellow, and….

And they both grew fangs. Like right out of a vampire movie.

"Uh-oh," Elaine said.

_Elaine: _

Again, let me restate the "uh-oh." Not that the guys were any kind of cute to begin with, even if I'd been straight—but now they were seriously ugly! Besides the bumpy faces and the medicine-colored eyes, they now had large fangs, like…

…Well, like vampires.

"Rose," I whispered urgently. "I was right in thinking you're all strong and tough and fast now, right? And your dad said we could use those powers to help people?"

She nodded, and immediately moved slightly away from me, assuming a stance that let me know she already knew what I was going to say, and was prepared.

"Well, we've got to help ourselves before we can help anyone else, right?" I forced a smile, thinking about trying to copy her stance, then dismissed the thought. Instead, I relaxed into a dancer's position. Might as well fight with what I knew, even if what I knew had nothing to do with fighting… right? "Let's kick these freak's asses."

The guys snarled and came at us, and I saw out of the corner of my eye Rose do something… amazing. It was like someone flipped a switch, and she _looked_ like a cat suddenly. Seeing that beauty made me fall a little more in love with her. _Must be that Kung-Fu,_ I thought idly. _Tiger and Leopard, she said— _

But then I couldn't pay any more attention to what Rose was doing, because the black-haired guy was practically in my face.

Now, I'm no martial artist. But I was scared, and I was strong, and I was a dancer— so I did something I'd never been able to do in my life. I lifted up on my toes, spun around, raised one leg into the air elegantly… and smacked the guy in the side of the head with it.

The blow sent him stumbling, but it knocked me a lot off-balance, too. I wasn't used to colliding with people, and hell, I wasn't even used to being _en pointe._ So I staggered to the side, and yelped when he tried to tackle me again, doing an undignified roll to one side and letting my momentum carry me to my feet again.

"Elaine!" I heard Rose cry.

"I'm okay!" I called back. "You?"

"I'm fine, but he's not going down!"

I think we both sounded—and felt—more than a bit panicked at this point. If Rose was doing fine, her training definitely had something to do with it; I wasn't doing so well, or at least I wouldn't be doing well for much longer. And my guy—it was getting harder and harder not to think of him as a vampire, and the more I thought about it, the more I got the sinking feeling he probably _was—_didn't seem to be going down that easily, either.

_Well, hell. Now what are we supposed to do?_

Then it hit me. _Idiot!_ I berated myself. _What's supposed to kill vampires? Holy water, decapitation— _

Or a stake through the heart.

And, now that I looked with that in mind, there were convenient trees, with convenient easily-broken branches, all over the place.

"Rose, we've got to get to a tree or something!" I yelled.

"You want us to shove a stake through their hearts!" By her tone, I couldn't tell if she thought I was joking or not. Even I didn't know if I could… I mean, shoving a tree branch _through_ a person, even one who was trying to kill me? The thought made my stomach turn over. I never liked blood much, and I didn't much fancy being a murderer, even in self-defense.

"What else are we supposed to do!"

The black-haired vampire snarled at me. "Like hell we're gonna let you, bitch!" he growled, and lunged at me again.

I sidestepped easily, spinning around on the tips of my toes and bringing my foot up to smack him soundly across the rear as he stumbled by—checking my balance this time. I didn't know how bright it was to be humiliating vamp-boy like this, but hell, it was satisfying!

While I was playing keep away, though, Rose was apparently doing something productive. Even with only the tenuous idea I'd given her, she had jumped into gear, forcing the vampire back with a flurry of kicks I couldn't follow—forcing him back towards a tree. And out of nowhere she dove, rolled to the side, hit her feet again running and….

I already knew she was special. With the way she was fighting, and the way she was holding together in the face of two monsters that wanted us dead, and the things she was apparently willing to do… yeah, I knew she was amazing. A high-school girl, able to deal with all this?

But when she jumped up into the air, her one leg kicked out at a tree branch dead-on, hard enough to shatter it—

— and _caught_ one of the shards before she hit the ground, then leaped in and punctured the blonde vampire's chest! He dissolved into dust with a horrible shriek— and right about then I knew just how amazing Rose Killian really was.

I only hesitated a moment, but a moment was enough. With a deep growl, _my_ vampire hit me head-on, bringing me to the ground. Almost instinctively, I tucked my knees under my chin (managing to knee him between the legs pretty well on the way up—I wasn't so stupid that I'd pass up _that_ chance!) and rolled, outstretching my legs in time to throw him. I put all my newly-acquired strength behind the move, and he went _flying._

_Huh, what do you know? I might actually take those martial arts classes Dad's so insistent about, now! _

Maybe Rose just wanted to see how I'd do on my own. I'd like to think she knew, even then, that I could handle myself just fine, that she could trust me that much. But she just waited, off to the side, as I rolled to my feet and jumped high up in the air, snapping off a tree branch before the vampire could even start standing back up.

And then I threw it, knowing I had to hit the heart and having a pretty good idea where it was located—and the branch was big enough that, even with only that vague idea, I didn't miss. He, too, screamed and turned to dust.

_See, what were you worried about? No blood._

Then the enormity of what had just happened hit me, and I found myself sitting on the grass, hard.

Then Rose was there, the battle over, concern lighting up her green-gold eyes so they almost shone. Like a beacon through fog, they were a focal point for me when my mind was trying to shut down. I focused on them.

"Elaine! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

I nodded slowly. Then, realizing that could be taken for _Yes, he hurt me,_ I immediately shook my head as well. Then I figured that I might well be answering _No, I'm not okay—_I almost went back to nodding, but forced myself to hold my head completely still instead.

"I'm all right, he just hit me like a freight train but I'm not bleeding anywhere. I think." I pushed my hair out of my face, shaking my head and blowing air upward to ruffle my bangs, a habit I'd had since I was six. "I think… damn, that was just too weird."

Rose sat down beside me, relieved. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I think I'm in shock."

I laughed. _"You're_ in shock! I'm the one with grass stains on my butt!"

Her eyes widened, and she blushed… then she started laughing, too. I think we both just cracked up for a while, a way of staying sane, a way of staying _together._

I calmed down eventually, suddenly serious. "You were amazing, back there."

Rose smiled at me. "You were, too."

"No." I shook my head. "You're a _fighter,_ Rose. It showed. I'm a dancer, so I can dodge a lot, and I have good aim. But you're the heroine of the team."

"Heroine . . ." She blinked, but seemed to like the term. She smiled at me again then, shyly. She stood up and pulled me to my feet. "We're _both_ heroines. You were great, too."

I don't know whether it was the shock, the adrenaline, or just the incredible feeling of abandon that came with the realization: life was different. Something new was starting. And whatever it was…

. . . it was going to be with this girl. I _wanted_ it to be with this girl.

So I smiled back, and reached out to touch her face, fingers brushing over a pale cheek lightly. "So pretty . . ." I said softly, to her look of sudden—well, shock. "You're amazing… and beautiful."

I won't say it surprised me, though it was a little unlike me. But it sure surprised Rose— in a good way, I found out really quickly!— when I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers.


	6. Chapter 6

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 6

_Rose: _

Okay, I'm not going to rehash the whole fight. just suffice it to say that I really, REALLY like having super-powers, okay? I'm gonna get all spoiled….

And Elaine! Holy— ! She was so graceful that a couple of times, I almost forgot to keep fighting blondie, I got so distracted watching her…. She gave new meaning to "dancing with attitude!" She kicked vampire butt all over the place, embarrassed the poor nasty monster silly, and then told me how to kill the one I was fighting.

Stake through the heart— duh! I should've known that one!

Feeling stupid, I showed off a little— okay, a _lot!_— in getting myself a stake. Kicked branches, caught stakes… did I mention that I _REALLY_ like having super-powers?

And vampires? Really considerate, as bad guys go. Stake through the heart, dusty wind, and they're gone. No fuss, muss, bother… or incriminating bodies lying around. Gotta love that.

So I watched Elaine fling a tree branch I know I couldn't even have picked up before the super-power thing through her vampire's heart, dusting him. Talk about good aim!

Elaine obviously was a little freaked by this. More freaked than me, at least. She didn't make a lot of sense for the first few seconds of talking after the double-dust show, and then….

Elaine called me a heroine. And I realized she meant it. I knew, I _knew_ right then that I wanted to spend forever with her.

I pulled Elaine to her feet and was trying to figure out a way to tell her that I'd gladly spend forever with her, when she touched my cheek and told me I was beautiful.

I blushed, my heart ran faster, and at least three very large flocks of butterflies launched themselves up from the pit of my stomach to the base of my throat. I opened my mouth to tell Elaine that I wasn't half as gorgeous as she was—

And she chose that moment to lean down and kiss me.

What happened next— look, I'm not a slut, okay? Despite what happened next, I'm not! What happened… happened because I'd already fallen in love with Elaine. And I'd never ever been so much as _touched_ by anyone that beautiful.

She made me crazy, and I guess what I did next proved that.

For a half a second, Elaine kissed me with no response. Then my brain and my heart and my body all woke up at the same time, and I flung my arms around her neck, pressed my body against hers as tightly as I could, opened my mouth wider, and when she darted her tongue into my mouth, met it with my own.

For a couple of seconds, that was enough. Then… well, it wasn't. I wanted to— _needed_ to!— let Elaine know how much I wanted this, how much I was hers, how totally I belonged to her if she'd have me.

Elaine's arms were around my waist, her hands resting at the small of my back. I let my arms drop from around her neck, let my hands go behind me to rest on her wrists for a second….

And then I shoved Elaine's hands _down,_ off of the small of my back… and onto my butt.

She was surprised, I could tell— but I could also tell she wasn't even a little bit upset, as her hands first caressed, then clutched and squeezed my butt, even as I put my arms back around her neck.

And then Elaine let me know how crazy _I_ was making _her!_

I felt her hands slide over the material of my underwear— then her fingers teased elastic for a moment, and when I made no objection, one of her hands moved under the cloth to bare flesh… and I thought I was going to die.

I would have died happy!

Finally, the longest (and sexiest) kiss of my life broke, and Elaine stared down at me, a little smile dancing around the corners of her mouth.

"I love you," I said impulsively, and her hands tightened on my butt for a moment, one through cloth, one on bare flesh, and that made me crazy some more. "I mean… I know I've only known you a little while but… I love you!"

"I… love you, too." Elaine said it slowly, then grinned merrily, and said it again, stronger. "I love you, Rose."

I started to kiss her again— and that's when a hoarse, scary voice said, "Here now! What are you kids doing in here!"

_Elaine:_

Wow. Just… wow.

When I kissed Rose, I had no idea whether I could expect to be kissed back, or what.

Well, okay, I thought I had an _idea._ I thought Rose liked me. But really, I couldn't tell if I was really picking up a vibe, or if it was just wishful thinking.

Not wishful thinking. Not by a long shot. And I'd had no idea how _much_ Rose liked me!

Her response to the kiss showed me. There was maybe— _maybe— _a split-second where she was unresponsive, maybe frozen in surprise or something. Then her arms were around my neck, and her body was pressing up so close to mine, and her lips parted. I took that as an invitation, and let my tongue flicker into her mouth, gently caressing her own with it. Then she was kissing me back, and my hands were sliding around to rest at the small of her back, and we just kissed, and for a few seconds that was good.

And then it got _way_ better!

Rose dropped her arms, and reached around to gently hold my wrists. I assumed she was surprised at my forwardness, but she didn't seem to be complaining in any way (so I guessed, as her tongue was currently rubbing gently against the roof of my mouth, making me shiver), so I didn't stop.

Then she shoved my hands down, so they were resting on her butt.

Yeah, I was surprised. But from moment one that surprise was not at _all_ unhappy, and since I knew she wanted it… well, I explored. I stroked her butt gently, then clutched and squeezed at it, and then her arms were back around me and I still wanted to do more.

Not a slut, me. But God, Rose was… honestly, Rose was the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, and I was already ass-over-teakettle in love with her, and she _wanted_ me to touch her like this. I wanted to show her how much I was willing to give her, if she wanted it. What I would do to make her happy. (The fact that _I_ wanted it was a given, and was far from the point.)

So I let teased a little, let her know what I was thinking of doing— and when Rose made no objection, I slid one hand under cloth and onto warm, firm flesh.

The kissing? It got more intense after that. I found myself wanting to just… make love to her, right then and there….

I honestly don't think we would have broken apart if not for that inconvenient need for air. But we both needed to breathe, eventually (whoever first said that you could breathe through your nose while kissing had apparently failed to remember the natural breathlessness of the situation), so we finally pulled back. I could tell that I was smiling, couldn't seem to stop it— and, honestly, didn't really feel the need to.

Then she said she loved me. My hands tightened involuntarily… well, maybe a _little_ voluntarily, when it comes to that. She seemed to appreciate the move. She squirmed a little, though I don't think she realized she was doing it. "I mean… I know I've only known you a little while but… I love you!"

God… it was amazing to hear that. Nobody had ever told me they loved me, not like _that._ Certainly no one so amazing and beautiful. It made my heart ache, and I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to kiss her again— more than that, I wanted to lay her down right there and make love to her.

I didn't do any of the above. Instead, slowly, I repeated her words… the same words that had been echoing around inside of me since I'd first seen her. "I… love you, too." Then my smile stretched into a grin, one of pure happiness. "I love you, Rose," I repeated, and it was just me saying it this time.

She started to kiss me again, and that would have been great. Except… you know my urge to just make love to her? Right there in the cemetery? _Not_ a good idea, apparently— and we found out exactly why, then.

The voice was raspy, and scary, and I practically levitated when Digger Elliott shouted over to us, "Here now! What are you kids doing in here!"

That was a jump-and-meep situation, before I realized who it was. Then I relaxed, shooting Rose a quick smile; she still seemed scared, and I thought, _Guess she doesn't come here after dark often or she would have met Digger._

Apparently Digger hadn't recognized me, either. Not that we were good friends or anything like that. Digger (God, that nickname! His real name must have been totally disgusting!) was part nighttime security but mostly a caretaker at the cemetery. He didn't mind me— I wasn't ever around to cause trouble, I left well enough alone, and I didn't get all creeped out because of his job. Hell, there were a lot of dead people— they definitely outnumbered us— _somebody_ had to do the dirty work, right?

He was also one of the only people who didn't give me grief for being a lesbian. He knew about it— not because I told him, but because he'd heard some jerks giving me grief about it one time before summarily kicking them out— and didn't seem to give a good goddamn one way or the other. I kind of liked his attitude. He didn't take any shit from anyone, up to and including himself and probably the Lord God Almighty.

I waved, hoping to defuse or distract the glowering grave-keeper-slash-guard before he changed his mind about me. "It's okay, Digger!" I called. "It's me, Elaine!"

He blinked at me, squinted… then nodded once, as if saying he was prepared to believe that. "Ayuh. Evening, Elaine." He turned his gaze to Rose and squinted again.

"This is my girlfriend, Rose. We got in a little trouble today and were just hanging out. We're going now." I ran through those sentences quickly, grabbing Rose's hand and dragging her off.

"Don't be in any hurry 'cos of me," Digger protested, apparently deciding he could be friendly now that he knew the situation. Well, he _thought_ he did. He was about two inches from stepping on the dusted remains of a vampire, but other than that, he pretty much _did_ know the situation. "I'm not locking the gates for another hour or so."

Rose smiled at him. She spoke up, then, though she sounded disappointed. "Actually, I should probably go home now. Mom will be wondering where I am."

"I'll walk you to your bus stop," I said softly, squeezing her hand. She smiled at me, and my heart leapt. Then I thought of something and lowered my voice, so Digger wouldn't hear: "Actually, with the vampires and all, maybe I'll see you home." I grinned.

Rose grinned back. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Thanks!"

Digger looked wryly amused. "Both of you have a good night, then, ladies," he said, shuffling off.

I blushed a little at the offhand implication in that sentence, but I was glad we were parting ways still as friends. "Night, Digger."

"G'night, Miss Elaine."

After he'd disappeared, we started walking towards the gates. Rose started laughing. "When he caught us I almost had a heart attack!"

"Me, too," I confessed, giggling. "Until I realized it was him. Digger's a good guy, if a little creepy at first."

"I like him, I think," Rose said.

I'm a total romantic. I admit it. I don't usually get overly-mushy, but hell, I'd just met the girl of my dreams and (besides [or maybe in spite of] the vampires) things were going perfectly. So on the bus ride to her house (which was only about two blocks from mine!), I held her hand. Every once in a while I'd squeeze her hand, just a little, to make sure this was _real._ Sounds kind of stupid to say it, but then again, I felt _her_ squeeze _my_ hand a couple times too, so maybe I wasn't the only one feeling that way.

When we disembarked, she didn't let go of my hand, but instead lead me through someone's yard, assuring me that "Dr. Hubert doesn't mind, he's a sweetie," then over to a big tree that partly overhung a balcony— hers, I assumed. If not, she sure wasn't worried about anybody coming out onto it and catching us.

It was beautiful, and I couldn't resist kissing her again. A good night kiss, you know? Only we ended up with our arms wrapped around each other again, my hands back on her butt, _both_ hands on skin this time, her whimpering slightly as I massaged her butt. Not the usual good night kiss— at least, not for people who weren't going to the same bed!

I pulled away again only when the need for air became too annoying. I smiled at her— she was looking a little dazed— and impulsively kissed her nose. She was gorgeous, yeah, but at the same time she was almost too damn _cute_ for words. "Night, Rose. When can I see you again?"

"Night, Elaine. Tomorrow." It was not a question, but it _was_ heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

"I can barely wait," I said honestly. "Tomorrow. Right after school. You have my phone number." (I'd given it to her on the bus.)

Then I smiled, grabbed her hand… and placed it on my breast, over my heart.

Rose took the opportunity to caress. I think I whimpered, because she let out a little breathy sound herself and said something… very, very sweet, and a little bit overwhelming. And it made me feel… insane. Good insane, which explains some of what happened next, I guess.

"I'm yours, Elaine," Rose said, very softly. "I belong to you. If you want to make love to me right here… right now… it's totally okay with me!"

"I want to," I said. "But… we shouldn't. Not here. Not now. But… soon."

"I… want you," Rose said, blushing darkly. "I want… to be yours."

I moaned, and all my good intentions, my ideas about behaving, went right out the window. I pulled Rose close, arms around her waist, and moved us both around that big tree, so it was between us and her house. Then I said, very softly, "How long before you're supposed to be home?"

"Twenty minutes," she whispered after checking her watch.

"Were you serious, Rose?" I asked softly. "About belonging to me?"

"Yes," she said— softly, but seriously. "I'm yours. I… want it like that."

I kissed her, one hand on her butt, the other buried in that hair, that brilliant, beautiful hair. "How far are you willing to go right now, Rose? Right now, right here under this tree?"

"I said that if you wanted to make love to me, that was all right," Rose said. "Whatever you want, however far you want to go!"

"I think… I want you in a bed, the first time we make love," I said. "But that leaves a lot of things we could do right now…."

And we did a lot of those things against that tree. Rose ended up completely naked, and despite the neighbor's back porch light being on, I didn't worry about us getting caught. I didn't worry about anything but pleasing Rose, and she… well, she did a few things for me, at my urging, just… not as much.

"Oh, god," Rose gasped after I'd made her nearly-scream one final time. "Elaine, can I… I want to do as much for you as you've done for me!"

"I wish we could do that, Rose," I said, feeling a very real regret. "But I sort of got wrapped up in what I was doing to you, and… check your watch."

Rose looked, and made a little sound of dismay.

"Crap, five minutes to get inside!" she said. "Damn, I forgot— you made me forget the time— thank you very much!"

I chuckled and helped her dress, talking as we did so.

"Rose… do your parents know you're gay?" I asked.

"Mom doesn't like that I'm gay, but she _would_ like you," Rose said. "I don't give a damn what Jerry thinks."

Oooh-kay. That was a little bit of an unusual response. It was something to ask about at a later date, though, because she then looked at me quizzically and asked, "Yours?"

"Yeah." I shook my head, deciding to come clean, make sure she understood. "I sort of… had a girlfriend last year. She and I… got caught at school. Making love at school. Bad mess, and the parents know. Mom… she's cool with me liking girls, just not the whole 'having sex at school' thing. Dad… less cool, I don't care."

She looked upset, so I kissed her softly. "Go on inside. I'll be fine. Dad can't control my life forever… and if there's one thing he's gonna have _no_ say in, it's you." I smiled, then said for the umpteenth time that night, "I love you."

God, saying those words just kept feeling _better._

And hearing her reply in kind was even better than that.

When I got home, checked the answering machine, and there was one from the parents saying to call one of their cells when I got in. I did that, assured them that I was fine, just had gone to Barnes and Noble's then for a walk. After I hung up, I had leftover chicken and some reheated mac and cheese, watched TV for a couple hours, then went to bed. And, while thinking about Rose Killian, thinking about her flesh beneath my hand, the heat of her mouth on my breast… I had an absolutely _explosive_ masturbation session.

I didn't have _any_ trouble sleeping that night. _

_Rose:_

Dressed again, I stood for few seconds more, watching her walk away, that perfect dancer's ass moving so smoothly….

Mom was sitting in the kitchen, and she said hi when I came in. I glanced at the clock, saw that I'd made it one minute before the promised nine o'clock, and said hello.

"You're supper's on a microwave plate," she said. "Top shelf. Do you want it, or did you get something while you were out?"

"I want it," I assured her.

I nuked my food (roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans in garlic butter— yum!) and sat down at the table to eat. Mom watched me the whole time, but I was still sort of… well, I was still thinking about Elaine, and I didn't notice.

I rinsed my plate when I was through, and that's when Mom said, "What's going on, Rose?"

I looked around to see Mom wearing her "you can't fool me" face. I tried anyway.

"Huh?" I said. "Nothing, Mom. Why?"

"Rose, you're a terrible liar," Mom said, grinning to take the sting out of the words. "You blush the minute you think about lying, just like your father.

"Rose, when you came in tonight, I thought you were stoned."

My mouth dropped in unfeigned shock, and I stared at my mother in total disbelief.

"Oh, stop," Mom said, actually laughing at the expression on my face. "I don't think so anymore. But honestly, Rose— when you came in, your eyes were… glazed, I guess. And you seemed a million miles away. I thought you'd been smoking pot.

"But now… you're fine. And you didn't get rid of a high in the time it took you to eat, so you weren't stoned."

"No, Mom, never!" I said, and meant it. "Do you _know_ what Sifu Archer would do to me? I'd never be able to take lessons from him again!"

"Oh, I know you weren't stoned, or drunk," Mom said. Then she did something she hadn't done… well since she married Jerry. She used to do it a lot, but not even once since she'd married the Lawyer From Hell.

Mom went into an Irish accent. "But… something is going on, Rose Erin Killian," she said. "And ye'll get no rest from yer auld mother until ye tell me what it is!"

For almost ten seconds, I was silent— then I lost it, and snorted laughter, and that turned into a case of the belly laugh. Soon I was falling into a chair around the corner from Mom, still giggling.

"Oh, God," I gasped. God, I had missed that. I love my Mom, I never stopped— but I thought the lady with the Irish lilt was gone for good, and that was part of what had come between us. "Okay, all right! That still gets me!"

"Good," Mom said. "Now, what's going on?"

"I met someone, Mom," I said. The giggles drained away, but I was still smiling. Thinking about Elaine, I couldn't _not_ smile. "I met someone, finally."

I have to give my Mom points. Major points. I had to start respecting her again, right there, for what she said next, and how she said it.

I even found myself liking her a little bit, for the first time since the wedding day.

"Is she from your school?" Mom asked.

I stared for a long, long moment, before Mom said, in this wry voice with just a trace of the lilt, "Close yer mouth, Rose, before somethin' flies right in."

I did as I was told, and then I stared at her for a minute. Finally, Mom asked it again.

"Rose, does this girl go to your school?"

"No, Mom," I said. "Sorry. No, she goes to Winston."

(While waiting for the bus, we'd found out we lived only two blocks apart. She was on Jefferson, almost straight across the block from Dr. Hubert, the dentist behind me on Washington. Her parents were really well off, too, her dad was some kind of Super-boss at State Farm Corporate HQ here in town, and her mom was a regional vice president for a bank that had branches all over the states east of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon Line.)

Mom proved that she still had a sense of humor that ran parallel to mine by asking, "Really? So does she live over by IAA, or can you walk to her house?"

"Two blocks away," I said, giggling again. Only people living within one of two about-six-blocks-on-a-side areas can afford to send their kids to the Winston Academy. (In Bloomington, at least, though Elaine could have been from Normal, Bloomington's "Twin City." The two are divided by a street. With incredible imagination, that street is named "Division Street.")

"Okay," Mom said. She sighed, then, and lowered her voice. "Have you two been… intimate?"

"Mom!" I protested, blushing so deep I figure I must have been glowing. "I just met her tonight!"

"Which doesn't answer my question," Mom said, giving me a peculiar look.

"No!" I said, trying to fight my traitor blush back into its pen. "We haven't… made love."

"All right," Mom said, still keeping her voice down. "Rose… sweetheart, you know I've never been comfortable with this. With you being… a lesbian. But… honey, I'd like to meet your girlfriend."

I stared for a minute, then said, "I'd like her to meet you, Mom. Elaine is… well, she's gorgeous. And sweet, and graceful to put an end to gazelles, and she dances, and… I'd better stop now or I won't shut up at all."

Mom looked at me for a moment, a look on her face that was… part resignation, part amusement. Then she actually smiled a little bit, and said, "Well, so much for this being just a phase."

"Huh?"

"Rose, if you could see your face right now…." Mom sighed. "You're about glowing, kiddo. And I know that look. I saw on your Aunt Mary's face when she first fell for your Uncle Steve. And I saw it on your Uncle David's face, the night he met your Aunt Melinda.

"And I suppose I saw in the mirror, after the first date I had with your father."

I blinked, and stared, and I almost said something— but we were getting along, not shouting, so I for once kept my mouth shut.

"I see that same look on your face now," Mom told me. "And we Rileys— male and female alike— we tend to marry our first loves, one and all."

That made my heart skip a few beats, let me tell you!

"Rose… I've not dealt with this." Mom was actually blushing! "I didn't want to have to deal with it. I hoped it _was_ just a phase, or this 'lesbian chic' thing you hear about in the media.

"The look on your face tells me it's past time I started dealing with it. And… I don't want to do it wrong. So… I'd like to meet Elaine tomorrow. And… we need to talk about some things, you and I. Maybe we could take a drive Sunday, just you and me?"

"I'd like that," I said. I think Mom must have heard the tears in my voice, because she reached out and squeezed my hand. "I'd like that a lot."

"Good." Mom left her hand on mine, for a long moment, and I could actually feel the tension building up in it. After a bit of silence, she spoke, and all in a rush. "I don't think we need to tell Jerry that Elaine is more than a friend of yours, do we, Rose?"

I looked up at her, amazed— and Mom was looking everywhere but at me.

"I guess not," I said, and turned my hand over to squeeze Mom's. "But… well, who are you, lady, and what did you do with my Mother?"

For a moment, I thought I'd screwed up, maybe as bad as earlier when I'd called Jerry a shyster. But then I realized the red creeping into Mom's face wasn't anger, it was embarrassment.

"I don't like that we need to fool him," Mom said quietly. "And don't go thinking that I'm about to make any kind of a habit of it! But… Jerry has made his views on your sexual orientation… very plain to me. And it would just cause more trouble, if he thought Elaine was your girlfriend."

"Oh," I said softly. "Homophobe alert."

"Yes," Mom agreed. "And… I have to admit, his reactions may have… colored my own, I suppose. I'm not happy about that, or proud of it, but… well, maybe you'll understand someday."

"I hope so," I said. "And Mom… thanks!"

"We'll talk Sunday." Mom stood, and I did too. "It's almost ten, Rose. Why don't you get on to bed."

"I'm going to," I said. "But… first things first."

Mom opened her mouth to ask what I meant, and I went around the table and hugged her— hard, like I meant it. I tucked my head up under her chin, got my arms around her waist and squeezed.

Mom squeezed back, and held me. I think she was a little sniffly— and I know I was. I was hugging her in a way, and with a ferocity, that I hadn't since… well, since she married the Shyster From Hell.

"I love you, Mom," I said, and I didn't even try to hide the quivering in my voice.

"I love you, too, Rose," Mom said— and she sound just as watery as I did. "I know we've fought a lot over the last couple of years, but… I hope you never thought I didn't love you, honey."

"Never for a second," I said. "And I hope you didn't think that either…?"

"Not even a little."

"Cool." I let go finally, and grinned. "I'm going to bed. I need to check my e-mail— "

"Lights and monitor off by— " Mom started.

"Ten-thirty, I know," I finished for her.

"Good night, Rose."

"Night, Mom."

I hit the stairs without speaking to Jerry— more to preserve that good feeling I had from talking to Mom than out of spite, really— and went towards my room. On the way, I stuck my head into my stepsister's room, and said, "Good night, Laurie."

"You okay, Rose?" Laurie was sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed, her much-read-much-loved copy of the first "Harry Potter" book in her lap. "I thought… well, I was worried earlier. Dad was…."

"He was probably so pissed he was radioactive," I offered.

"Yeah, about," Laurie said. "I was half expecting him to turn green and start tearing the house apart."

"It's back to normal, I think," I told her. "You know— I want him gone, he wants me gone, neither one of us can have what we want, so… we're pretending the other one doesn't exist."

"Yeah," Laurie said. She looked crushed. "Rose, I'm s—"

"What have I told you about apologizing for him?" I said, stepping into her room and hugging her. "I know it's not your fault, so knock it off!"

"Okay," Laurie said. "I just wish he'd stop being a jerk."

"Maybe someday. Now, I gotta check my e-mail, and it's late. G'night."

She hugged me again, then got lost in the world of Hogwarts as I went off to my room.

I had e-mail all right, in my "private" account. The one address I'd given to maybe six people on Earth. It was from Sifu Archer— and it was a shocker.

I read it. I read it again. I read it a third time. I said a few choice swear words under my breath, then I read it again. It was short and to the point— and almost maddening!

_Rose— I think I know what's happening to you. I think I know what you are. After class tomorrow, plan to stay. Explanations— what little I have— will come then._

He'd signed it simply "Sifu."

I kept that mail. I filed it away in a "keeper" folder.

Then I shut off my monitor, stripped to a pair of panties, and went to bed. For maybe ten minutes, the e-mail taunted me, teased me, kept me wide-eyed and awake.

_I think I know what you are._

Then thoughts of Elaine crept in. And that erased all thoughts of the e-mail from my head.

I masturbated while thinking of her and after that, I slept like a log.


	7. Chapter 7

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 7

_Elaine:_

Okay, definite confession. I dreamed about Rose that night.

No surprise, right? Really _good_ dreams! Good and… interesting… enough, that I would have liked to lie in bed for maybe half an hour just remembering them. Yeah, I'm a romantic— but anyone would want to replay dreams like that!

But I figured I was going to have to hurry, if I wanted to avoid being late to school. Not hurry as much as usual, maybe, because of that whole run-for-miles-without-tiring thing, but hurry just the same.

I think I managed to get dressed, wash my face, and start gathering my stuff before I ever glanced at a clock. Which meant, when I saw it wasn't even six o'clock yet, I was way too awake to even think of laying back down.

_Day-ammmmn…!_

I shook my head, wondering what had gotten into me. I normally didn't wake up until six thirty— I never actually _got_ up until quarter 'til. I only wondered for a minute though, before thinking, _Oh. Yeah. Superpowers got into me. _I was obviously going to need less sleep.

As it was, I was full of energy… and had nothing to do. I went downstairs and hesitated, wondering whether I should eat… then shook my head and went out the back door.

And I danced.

For almost a full hour, probably, I danced. I went through every move I'd learned, every step— then tried things I'd only ever _seen. __Everything_ was easy. I _knew_ I was moving gracefully, and executing the movements perfectly. I showed off to myself, actually doing ballet; I pretended I had a partner and did a tango; I tried a strange, rhythmic mix of tap and Riverdance; I think I actually did some breakdancing somewhere in there. I turned cartwheels and did flips.

What I was doing was so varied— so frenzied— most any teacher in the world would have thrown up her hands and told me to get _serious. _But I freely acknowledge here: I wasn't dancing, _per se,_ as much as I was _showing. _I was happy, and I turned my joy into movements for the world to see.

After I calmed down, I went inside to bathe. Then I popped a bagel in the toaster… and hesitated. I could tell already that that wasn't going to be enough. So while that toasted, I pulled out a big bowl and had cereal— then slathered the finished bagel with jelly, and scarfed that down. Then I had a glass of milk, followed (after another moment's hesitation) by a glass of orange-strawberry-banana juice. _Then_ I was done, to my own mild relief.

Besides my lunch money, I also brown-bagged it that day— taking a container of leftover spaghetti, a canteen of some more juice, and a banana. I had a feeling I'd be eating a big lunch, too!

I ran to school. The whole way. I didn't get tired, or sweaty, or even out of breath. When I walked into the library, Kimber did a double-take. (She always showed up early to mess around in the most quiet building in the school. She may not seem it, but she's really into books and the 'Net— she always used the mornings to do some light reading, research, and surfing.)

"Whoa, Elaine. You're here early. You go all insomniac or what?"

I shook my head. "No. You know the bully-bench-pressing thing? I think the no-sleep thing is connected. I needed about five, six hours, I guess."

Kimber didn't grin, which meant I didn't even have to ask The Question. "That's cool. Wish _I_ had good news to report. The axe-thing? I got nothing. I'm still looking, but you know, just having _axe with runes_ to look for… not all that helpful. Sorry," she added. She didn't look ready to kick herself, she looked like she _had_ been for a couple hours.

"No big," I assured her, stretching out in my seat and grinning. "Nothing— repeat _nothing— _could make this a bad day."

I felt completely relaxed and content, and I must have looked it. Kimber gave me an _I'm your best friend so you spill all NOW_ look— then her face lit up. "Elaine! You're in love!"

I started giggling, albeit a little uneasily. "You sure _you_ didn't get any superpowers? Like mindreading, or something?"

"Nah, I'm just your best bud." She didn't stop grinning at me. "Come _on,_ Elaine— what's her name?"

"Rose Killian," I said promptly. "She goes to Bloomington High. She's a martial artist, and— _God!_ I almost forgot!" I gave myself a light smack in the forehead. "She's got these powers, too."

Kimber's jaw dropped. "You're _shitting_ me?"

"No way. Look . . ."

So I explained. It took a while, because I was determined not to leave out the slightest detail.

When I was done, Kimber was giving me this unreadable look. "Strong and tough and fast," she muttered. "And you two kicked vampiric ass? And then fell in love, immediately, just like that?

"Elaine, if this wasn't real— it'd be a really bad B-movie!"

I cracked up. After a second, so did she… and we were both still laughing when the bell rang.

Kimber stood up. "Let's go, Miss Vampire Killer. You know," she added casually, "I'm going to have to meet your girlfriend. So I can scope her out— oops, I mean make friends . . ."

I laughed again. "Just like you, Kimber."

"Hey, I'm not letting just _anyone_ make off— or make out— with my Elaine."

I still laughed, but I blushed that time, too. My first lesbian experience had been with Kimber. Then came the whole getting caught thing, and we cooled it off. It was a lot more relaxed after that, though she could still make me blush crimson sometimes— and vice-versa!

"All right, all right," she said, seeing my expression. "Laying off, now. I don't want you getting all killer-dancer on me . . ."

We parted ways.

That day simultaneously sped by _and_ lasted an hour past forever. When the bell rang, I zoomed out— sparing a glance at Kimber, who raised her eyebrows, grinned, and winked at me. I would have gotten her back for that— _some_how— but I was in a total hurry and she knew it.

_Rose:_

I woke up on Friday morning with my head full of Elaine. I'd dreamed about her a good deal the night before, along with other, not-bad-but-not-near-_that_-nice dreams.

I'm not a morning person, usually, but that day, I woke up full of energy. I felt ready to wrestle a platoon, and then I realized something.

My alarm hadn't gone off.

I hadn't gotten up before my alarm clock… well, ever, that I could recall. I looked at the clock, and gaped. It was only 5:15 in the morning! And I was as awake and invigorated like it was Saturday and I'd slept 'til noon.

"Okay, now that can't be a side effect of being in love," I muttered. "So it has to be the super powers. I need less sleep, I guess."

I knew from how I felt that there was no point in laying back down to wait for the alarm to go off at seven. I wouldn't sleep. I wouldn't be able to read. I needed to _do_ something— and I figured out what it should be while I pulled on sweats and a sports bra.

Going down through the house to get outside would risk waking up Mom or the Evil Attorney. And I didn't want that, so I slipped out on my balcony and looked at the branches on the big old oak that shaded it much of the day.

There was a branch almost level with the balcony floor. It almost touched the balcony, too, but it wouldn't be sturdy enough to hold me until at least six feet closer to the trunk, and eight feet would be safer.

I was stronger than ever. Last night, without a running start, I'd jumped a good five feet straight into the air. My balance was fantastic, and I had some tumbling skills, learned with my Kung Fu, at my disposal.

I grinned. Super powers are fun!

I opened the balcony doors then stood at the foot of my bed. I'd have almost thirty feet to build up enough speed, that should be plenty.

I ran at the balcony railing opposite my target branch, jumped, pushed with my hands as my body jackknifed into the air, flipped—

— and landed neatly on the branch I was aiming for, a good ten feet away from my balcony railing. My feet were solid under me, my balance was fine, and I didn't have to grab anything with my hands to help me out.

"Tarzan, eat your heart out!" I climbed down the tree easily, mostly step and drop from limb to limb, dropping the last eight feet to the ground and absorbing the impact with bent knees.

Then, for an hour and a half, I did my Kung Fu forms. All of them. I did the simple ones slowly, to warm up, then started going faster and more aggressively as I progressed into the harder forms.

It felt wonderful! All this speed and power and grace— I felt like all the work I'd done over the last three years had finally paid off, all at once, instead of slowly and steadily. And maybe paid off with interest, even.

I was interrupted by a voice saying in a scandalized tone, "Rose Killian! What are you doing out here this early?"

I flowed into a jumping, spinning kick that emulates a tiger raking with it's back claws, and landed facing my Mom, who was standing at the back door into the kitchen, holding a spatula in her hand.

"My forms, Mom," I said. "My red sash test is this Friday, remember?"

"I think you must really want that sash," Mom said. "I haven't seen you get out of bed before seven since you were five, and you and your father had to be up and in front of the TV at seven on Saturdays to catch the re-runs of Underdog."

I nodded, and said, "Bet your Irish bootie I want that sash! And I'm going to get it, too."

"I watched for a couple of minutes, before I came out," Mom said. "And I have to tell you, Rose… I don't know much about martial arts, maybe, but I know that looked just plain _wonderful._ You're right. You'll get it, this time."

I was so busy glowing at the compliment that I almost missed Mom asking if I wanted a "real" breakfast this morning, or if I'd be doing my usual Pop-Tarts.

"Real breakfast, please!" I said, shocking my mother yet again. "Whatever you're fixing, and lots of it!"

"Okay, that's it," Mom said, laughing softly. "You're up before I am, exercising. You want a real breakfast. I can take a hint!

"No matter what you do, from now on we don't even _threaten_ to take away your Kung Fu lessons!"

I laughed with her, and said, "One more form, Mom, then I'm gonna shower quick and come down for food."

"Can I watch?"

I nodded, and then I did the one form I hadn't done yet, the hardest of all the forms that would be on my test. I did it at combat speed, as I would have to for the test. Short, subtle handwork, close-range foot work (the short, practical kicks you rarely see in the movies), and deceptively slow deflection blocks slowly blended into more violent— and flashy, I guess— attacks. The punches became devious, flowing from one place to another that they shouldn't have been able to hit, given their starting points. Short, choppy defensive kicks became higher, longer, more powerful kicks. Spinning moves, aerial moves, aerial spinning moves, all these crept in, until I was moving as much in the air as on the ground. I finished the form with a series of rapid-fire fore and backhand punches and then a jumping, spinning kick that landed me in the most basic stance of my school's Tiger form of Kung Fu, legs wide, left leg in front of right, slightly cocked, weight on my right heel, hands up and open, looking ready to claw….

I did it perfectly— and I wowed my Mom completely.

Mom was staring at me when I finished, her mouth slightly open, her eyes unblinking.

"Mom?" I said. "You might want to close your mouth, before something flies in…."

"Rose that was amazing!" Mom said. "I had no idea you could— weren't you having trouble with your forms, just a couple of weeks ago?"

"I was," I admitted. "I had some sort of block, I guess. Or something. It's gone now— that's all that matters."

"It's gone, all right." Mom looked at me with new respect as I stepped past her into the kitchen. "And not only are we not threatening to take away your lessons any more, you will never again hear me complain about the cost."

"Oh come on, Mom— "

"No, Rose, I'm serious," Mom said. "I had no idea that you could be so… well, Rose, you know you're a beautiful girl, right?"

"I know," I said, grinning. "I got lucky, and I look like you."

"Flatterer," Mom said, smiling. "And thank you.

"But… you know you're beautiful, but when you do… what you just did, you go past beautiful. You… Rose, I felt like I feel when I'm watching ballet."

I could only stare. Mom _loves_ ballet, more than anything. (Which was one reason I was so sure she'd like Elaine. Mom loves ballet most— but loves dancing, period!) For her to compare what I had just done to ballet was like having her tell me a story for school was up there with something written by Tolkien!

"Wow," I said in a small voice. "Mom I… thank you! I'd hug you, but I'm all sweaty, and— "

Mom hugged me. "Never mind the sweat, I haven't had a shower yet either. That was beautiful, Rose, and I thank you for letting me watch it.

"Are you allowed to have guests at your testing?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Yes, ma'am. Some of it will be boring, the recitations of the history and stuff, but if you want to go…?"

"I do," Mom said firmly. "I want to see more of that!"

I couldn't talk even, so I just hugged her again. She hugged back hard, and we stood like that 'til we heard Jerry coming up the stairs from the bottom floor. (His and Mom's bedroom was down there, a big study for him, a big studio/workroom for Mom, and a rec room where they sometimes had small parties.)

Mom let me go, and I went off to shower before having to speak to Jerry. I was having a good morning, after all— why spoil it?

I showered and dressed for school— only four more days, the last day was Wednesday, unless you had make-up exams or something— and went back downstairs. Jerry and Laurie were sitting down at the table, both eating pancakes and bacon. Mom turned around as I came in and handed me a plate with four big, fluffy pancakes and what looked like a ton of bacon on it.

"Too much?" she asked, as I came in.

"Nope," I said. "Looks like maybe enough."

Mom rolled her eyes in disbelief, but handed me the plate and a glass of orange-pineapple juice.

I ate everything on the plate in ten minutes, and was still hungry. Mom blinked a couple of times when I got up and dropped a couple of apple Pop-Tarts in the toaster, but didn't say anything. I scarfed my Pop-Tarts down, chasing them with a big glass of milk, and finally felt like I'd had enough.

"I'm gonna walk to school today," I said. "So I'd better get going.

"Mom, can I have a friend over after school? Her name's Elaine, you haven't met her yet. She's gonna come over here, then come down and watch my Kung Fu lessons, if that's okay with you?"

"That's fine, dear," Mom said. "Finals start tomorrow, yes?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's my easy day. English, American History, Typing II. Tomorrow night is study-intensive night, cause Friday is Bio, Comp Sci… and Algebra II. Can Brian come over tomorrow after school? He's actually been helping with the Algebra stuff. But he'd need a ride home, when we're done."

"Absolutely," Mom said. "I'll make a pork roast, he loved that the first time he had it. And If he can get you an A in Algebra, I'll drive him to Chicago."

"I'll pay for the gas," I muttered. "I hate math!"

"If you pass this, you don't have to take more," Mom said. "That will be all three math credits you need."

(I'd gotten dual credit for Algebra I in the eighth grade, it had counted as both middle school and high school credit, and taken Geometry my freshman year.)

"Believe me, I want the A," I said. "Thanks, Mom. Bye, everybody."

Mom blew me a kiss, Laurie gave me a grin and a wave, and Jerry shook his paper at me. I left by the side door, ran down the slope to Country Club Place, and took off at a trot along the edge of the golf course across the street.

I ran to school and never quite broke a sweat. I wasn't sprinting, but I went faster than a jog, and still… no sweat stains.

Have I mentioned that I love having super powers?

I got to the school with twenty minutes before classes started at eight-thirty. My buddy Brian was just getting off of the bus out front, he lived way out on the east edge of town.

"Hey, Rose," Brian called. He came over and half-hugged me, easy cause he's only an inch taller than me, and grinned around the bruising on the left side of his face. He's so pale and blond and fine boned— even his eyes are a very pale grey— that the bruising looked absolutely awful. "Did you figure out which ghost is possessing you?"

I looked blank for a second, before remembering his joke about wanting to know if it was the ghost of Bruce Lee or his son Brandon that had possessed me when I trashed Kurt Belden the day before. "Oh, no, I didn't. But… Brian, come with me. I need to show you something."

"Shweetheart," Brian said in a _really_ good Humphrey Bogart impersonation, "I'd follow you anywhere."

I laughed and led the way out the back of the building and over behind the bus garage. There was a big open area back here, and Brian and I often came back here. We'd talk, or study, or I'd try my forms while he watched.

"Watch this," I said.

I did the last form I'd be called on to do Friday night, the one that had so totally wowed my Mom, and I did it just as well, despite the not-quite-so-comfortable clothes I had on for school.

"Holy crow!" Brian said. "Rose, that was in-freaking-credible! How did you learn that right so fast!"

"That's what I wanted to tell you about," I said. "Or part of it. There's one more thing I need to show you, though."

"If it's half that cool, I'm gonna holy SHIT!"

Brian Keller stared at me with a look of mixed amazement, shock and wonder on his face.

There was a lawn mower out here, a BIG one, that the school used. I mean WAY big, with like an eight-foot-across cutting area.

I stood at the back of the mower, holding the back end off of the ground without much strain at all— but my feet were sinking slowly into the ground as all that weight was supported on a much smaller area.

I lowered the mower back down, and turned to look at my friend.

"Are you gonna turn green, now?" Brian asked. "Or maybe start shooting webs from your wrists? Can you fly?"

"No, no and no," I said. "I'm still me, Bri. But… I'm really strong now. And coordinated as all Hell, and pretty tough, too."

"How?"

So I told him, starting while we were sitting there, finishing as we walked to homeroom after the bell went off.

"Man," he said when I finished. "And you promptly meet another girl just like you? And you guys hook up?

"How come this stuff never happens to me!"

"You weren't born Irish," I said, and grinned. We walked into homeroom and sat down in the back corner while the teacher did a headcount. "Brian, you better not think I don't _know_ how incredibly lucky I've been. I do know— and I'm grateful to those 'Powers That Be' that Daddy mentioned.

"And as soon as I figure out exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, I'm going to do the job they gave me these powers for."

"You know," Brian said, "if I can help somehow— Rose, you know I'm right there, right?"

"I know. You're my best friend, Brian." I socked him lightly in the shoulder. "And I've been thinking… you know more about hacking and phreaking than I even _could_ learn. Someday, that may come in handy, you know? And if I need it— you bet your last USB port I'll be right there asking for your help."

"Cool," Brian said. "Hey, did you get super-smart, too?"

"No, I didn't," I said. "I'm still gonna need a study-buddy tomorrow night. You come home with me, we feed you, and Mom will take you home when we're done. Cool?"

"Very," Brian agreed. "Your mom… I'm glad she didn't go all rich and snobby, and hire a cook, on top of you guys' maid. Your mom can _cook!"_

I laughed at his eagerness to eat my Mom's cooking, and the bell rang for first hour.

The day flew by. In every class, we were finished with learning new stuff, and were into reviewing for finals, which I don't find boring, cause I'm a geek, and really like most of my classes.

PE was… interesting.

Kurt Belden didn't dress out. He sat on the edge of the bleachers in jeans and a sports shirt, and watched glumly as the rest of us lined up. He was sporting a big old shiner, from my last set of attacks on him, and I could see the great big welt and long scratch on his right hand, from where I'd smacked him with my foil to disarm him. He looked at me and shot me the finger, after making sure that Coach wasn't looking. I smiled and waved cheerfully, causing his expression to get even darker.

"Miss Killian," Coach Phelps said in a very controlled voice, "You are excused. You'll be counted as here, and no penalty will be assessed to your grade. You can either go to the library and study, or join the freshmen in the pool— I've already cleared it with Coach Lund, she knows you might be coming."

Last day of PE, and I was out of it? Good deal, but….

I got out of line, and went up to Coach Phelps, who looked at me like I was dirt.

"Coach," I said slowly, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to hit you, but you totally surprised me. And the rest… I was making sure I didn't get thrown out, is all.

"I know you've got no reason at all to like me, and I can't say as I blame you for that— but I'd like to go out for fencing again next year, and I won't get much chance to practice over the summer. Could I maybe stay in here, and work solo? I'll stay off to the side, and be quiet."

I could see Coach Phelps looking at me, see him trying to decide. He knew I didn't have to apologize to him at all, and he wasn't expecting it. So I played my last card.

"I know Miss Heller would appreciate it."

Coach blinked at that. Miss Heller was the school's art teacher— and sponsor of and coach for the fencing team. She'd actually gone to the Olympics in 1996, then finished school and gotten into teaching. Only because we had a former Olympic fencer at our school did we even _have_ a fencing team.

Lydia Heller was a total babe, too. And Coach had a serious thing for her.

Coach didn't answer, just walked over and opened the equipment locker for me. He hesitated for a second, then said, "Just stay out of the way and we're fine, Killian."

"Thanks, Coach," I said. Then I grabbed my foil, and began working, practicing, finding that, just like my Kung Fu, this had all come together at once.

Coach Phelps watched some. And after a while, he called another student who was sitting out— Steph Williams, she had a broken wrist and was in a cast for another week or two yet— over, and sent her out.

Steph came back leading Miss Heller.

My fencing coach watched for a few minutes without comment, then said, "Stop, please."

I did as she asked.

"Jacket and mask," Miss Heller said, heading for the locker and grabbing those items herself, as well as a foil.

Wordlessly, I did as I was asked. It took Miss Heller a little longer than it did me, as she had a jacket from her outfit to get rid of, before she could put on her fencing jacket. That, and she has this incredible mane of thick, wavy blond hair to take care of, too.

(I crushed on Miss Heller so hard earlier in the year that she actually had to take me aside and talk to me, because I was being way too obvious. But she was sweet about it, and as gentle as she could be, and now I've got Elaine, so I was okay. Finally.)

When we were dressed in jackets and masks, Miss Heller said, "We will have to be careful, Rose. No padding below the waist. Parry up or to the side, when you can."

"Yes, ma'am."

"_En garde."_

My foil came up, and we saluted each other with the precision of robots.

"Fence!"

Miss Keller came in fast, her foil streaking for the red, heart-shaped patch sewn to my fencing jacket— and I parried and riposted just as fast as she'd attacked. She parried, and backed off a half a step, then did a beat-and-lunge, which I riposted again, and then slid a full step back and let her come to me again.

She did, and we fenced like demons for maybe three minutes, before she finally got past my guard with a sneaky little parry-turned-feint-turned-thrust.

"Touché!" I called, and flung my blade up in salute. I whipped off my mask, then, and started to shake Miss Heller's hand— and found her hugging me, instead. (Remember that crush I'd had? There was enough of it left still that I _relished_ that hug!)

"Rose," Miss Heller panted, gulping air like she'd just run a marathon, "I haven't had a workout like that since 1996! Well worth missing a planning period for! Girl, what _happened_?"

"I guess I had some sort of block," I said. I didn't like lying, but what else could I do? "I guess it's gone now."

"I guess so!" Miss Heller said, stripping off her fencing jacket. "You are coming out for the team next year, right?"

"I want to," I said. "And I can't see anything that would stop me."

"You want private lessons over the summer, you e-mail me," Miss Heller said. "Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Heller," I said, grinning like a fool. "I will."

The bell rang, then, and there was a rush for the showers. I started to put away my fencing stuff, but Coach Phelps stopped me.

"You go on and shower, Rose," Coach said. "And you get to class, Lydia. I'll take care of this stuff."

"Thanks, Coach!" I said, unbelieving. Then Miss Heller spoke, and I got why he was being so nice all of the sudden.

"Yes, thank you, Lee," Miss Phelps said. "And thank you very much for sending for me!"

"Not a problem," Coach said, and I could hear the grin in his voice from clear over by the door to the girls locker room. "Frankly, I was impressed, and I don't know that much about fencing. Yesterday she looked good, but— yesterday it might have been adrenaline. I saw today, and I thought you should see it. Wasn't expecting to see a match, and damn sure not one that long. Is she really that good?"

"Last time I had to work that hard to win a fencing match, it got me a bronze medal, Lee," Miss Heller said. "No joke, no exaggeration."

I practically floated to the showers, after that!

In English, Robert Gerard, a boy who'd seen me with Elaine on the bus the night before, came over before class, and asked me pointblank if she was my girlfriend.

"Yeah," I said, grinning so wide it about hurt. "That's my Elaine."

"Lucky you," Robert said. "And good taste!"

Brian knew Elaine was coming after school. He didn't expect me to wait and talk, he knew I'd be online late to talk to him then. He knew I wanted to get home fast, so I could call Elaine and have her come over. The bell rang, and Mr. Ogden said, "Dismissed," and I was leaving a hole in the air.

Finals were coming. I took my Bio and my Algebra books out of my locker because of that— and then I was out the doors and running home, _sprinting_ home.


	8. Chapter 8

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 8

_Elaine:_

I got home earlier than usual, shrugged off my backpack, grabbed an after-school snack (I was right, I _had_ eaten both the school lunch and everything I'd packed that morning), and hovered by the phone. Having out-of-town parents was good for one more thing: I was being totally obvious about being in love, and no one was around to notice!

The phone didn't have time to ring more than once before I grabbed it. "Hello?"

"It's Rose," she said, and I grinned so wide it hurt. Just talking to her like this… well, it made the wait more than worth it— while making me feel like I _never_ wanted to wait that long again! "I'm home. Mom's here, and wants to meet you."

I blinked, but couldn't help feeling… warmed, by this fact. Not every mother would react to her daughter saying, "Mom, I have a girlfriend," by saying cheerfully, "Really? Invite her over tomorrow, I'd like to meet her." Rose's mother was obviously special.

Still, I couldn't help being nervous. What if she didn't like me? Rose meant so much to me, and her mother obviously meant a lot to Rose, so I wanted Rose's mom to like me, too. If that makes any sense. But all I said was, "Okay. Should I come the same way we got there last night?"

"Yes, if anybody says anything at Dr. Hubert's, say you're a friend of mine, and coming to see me, then come on to the back door."

I smiled. Nervous or not, I was going to be seeing Rose again, and that made me feel like the world was a _very_ good place. "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes." Then I added, because I couldn't _not_ say it, "I love you, Rose!"

"I love you, too," she said, and I grinned like mad. "See you in a couple."

She hung up, and I took a second to compose myself. See, when I get happy, _anyone_ can tell— I smile helplessly, dance around instead of just walking, and am just generally super-chipper. (Like I said, parents gone was a good thing— I was _totally_ obvious!) Now that I was in love, just talking to Rose made me feel like everything was perfect… and hearing her say she loved me, well, I couldn't _stop_ grinning, and I half-danced all the way to her house.

When I got to her back door, I knocked. There weren't butterflies in my stomach— those were in my chest, and pushing up my throat, I think a grape-stomper was in my stomach. I was nervous, I was happy, I was dreading this, I was looking forward to it… all of that.

Then Rose opened the door, and half those feelings went away immediately. Now I was just happy, and a tad nervous.

"Hey," she said softly, and let me in. She gave me a long, clingy hug, probably because her mom was watching. She pressed her cheek to mine, and whispered, "I love you"— and I swear, I thought I'd melt right there.

Then her mom _totally_ surprised me, I think both of us— and this was when I _knew_ she was cool. She said:

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Rose. Kiss the girl. I won't faint."

Though it came out partially like she was giving in, somehow, mostly she sounded amused, so I knew she really didn't mind. But Rose was blinking, and started to say, "Uh… Mom, I don't think…."

I interrupted her. Which wasn't polite, but hey, I don't think either of us cared. "Shh. It's okay."

She looked at me, and I kissed her— slowly, trying to be sweet. The kisses the night before had been a really strong mix of _I love you_ and _I want you_… and right now, I tried to make the message lean farther towards the purely _I love you._

When we both pulled apart, Rose whispered, "Wow. That was… I love you!"

Then we were alerted to the fact that we had a larger audience than before. A slightly younger girl was standing in the doorway; she said, a little awkwardly, "Uh, should I maybe go to my room?"

I'll admit it: I jumped. After all, I knew I was kissing in Rose in front of her mom, and I'd pretty much steeled myself for that. Having another girl show up partway through was startling.

Rose's mom just glanced at the girl, and said, "I don't know what for, honey. You know Rose likes girls."

Rose was turning red— like, _rose-_red. "Okay," she said, "I'm going to make introductions and then I'm going to go grab my stuff for class— before my head pops from blushing.

"Mom, Laurie, this is Elaine Marshall, the… my girlfriend." I couldn't help but grin at that. I knew it was true, I knew Rose loved me— but just hearing her say those words somehow made things _really good. _"Elaine, this is my mother, Kelly Wentworth, and my stepsister, Laurie Wentworth."

"Girlfriend?" Laurie said. "Wow. Okay, that's why you were all spacey last night."

I giggled a little, while Rose threw up her hands melodramatically. "That's it. Is there a single person in this house that can't read me like a book?"

"Jerry," her mom said.

"Daddy," Laurie said at the same time.

"Good point," Rose said. "Look, I need to get my stuff together for Kung Fu. And I'm just going to dress out for it now, not change there. Elaine, you come on up when Mom puts away the thumbscrews."

She disappeared upstairs, and I went back to being nervous— though not nearly as nervous as I _had_ been. I shouldn't have been nervous at all. Rose's mom made small talk with me… well, possibly "prying for information" that was _disguised_ as small talk, but it was disguised really well if that was the case.

"So, you go to Winston Academy?" she started with, and I winced a little at that one. With all the "extra time" I'd had at home, I'd forgotten to change.

"Yes," I said. "My parents didn't want me going to public school. I don't know, it's kind of nice. I get to dance instead of do PE, there."

She smiled at me. "Rose told me you dance. What kinds?"

I laughed a little. "Well… pretty much _anything,_ now. I'm doing jazz, but… well, I used to not be able to do ballet because I had weak ankles, but now I'm— well, I'm getting better. Exercises, you know." I hated lying like this to Rose's mom, but I didn't know if she could take the explanation _"my ankles got better after I got those super powers."_

Her eyes lit up. "I _love_ ballet. I love dance, really. Have you seen Rose's Kung Fu, yet?"

I had, but I didn't know how to explain that. "Not really… no, not yet."

"She looks like she's dancing when she does her forms, now. It is beautiful."

"I bet." I grinned. "My dad wanted me to get into martial arts, ever since I was little. I didn't have enough time in my schedule, with the dancing. I'm thinking I might get into it more, now, though."

Mrs. Wentworth's grin faded a little, and she looked concerned all of a sudden. Not really _worried,_ per se, but… thoughtful. "Will your parents approve of your dating Rose?"

I winced a lot, that time. Way more than on the Winston Academy question. "Mom won't mind, really," I said flatly. "Dad… he's a different story. He's not happy about me being— liking girls."

Mrs. Wentworth nodded a little, and entirely failed to get upset at me at all. "Jerry— Rose's stepfather— wouldn't like it, either. To him, you're just Rose's friend." And to my utter surprise, she winked at me.

I stared at her— then giggled. "Thanks for the heads-up!" I glanced upstairs and bit my lip. "So, could I… if…."

She laughed. "I'm done. You can go spend time with her now— but don't slow her down too much!"

I blushed, nodded, and said a quick "thank-you-bye-nice-meeting-you" before trotting upstairs.

Rose looked pretty much ready, stuff-wise, and was starting to change when I reached her doorway. I knocked on the frame, and smiled at her as she turned around, then stepped inside.

"Your mom is absolutely wonderful!"

Rose sighed in relief and came over to hug me. Then, while we were hugging, she closed the door— and I kissed her, sweetly again. We kissed for a while, then just held each other. I was content, and I could almost _feel_ waves of contentment rising from Rose.

We stood like that for a few minutes, then Rose said, "I have to get ready. Pretty much now."

I detached, and sat on the edge of her bed. I looked around curiously as she gathered her uniform. "Nice computer. Is it hooked into your stereo, or am I crazy?"

"You aren't crazy," she said. "My friend Brian did it. He's a freaking genius with all things electronic— but I won't let him touch a carpenter's tool, 'cause he'll kill himself without meaning to."

While she said this, she was stripping. I caught all of it, but filed most of it away for later— I was a bit too distracted to make any immediate sense of what she was saying. She was all the way down to panties and a bra before she looked at me.

When she _did_ look at me, though, I could _see_ her noticing me looking at her. Then she glanced at the door, so I knew she was going to do _something_… but when she reached behind herself to unhook her bra, caught the cups, and slowly lowered her hands to reveal her breasts— all of it quite deliberately… well, I was a _very happy_ kind of surprised!

(Yes, I'd seen them the night before. In the heavily shadowed half-light of a pole light some ways off. Big difference!)

The look on her face was a temptation in and of itself, and suddenly I just wanted start kissing her, starting at her mouth and….

I licked my lips, and when I spoke, my voice was unsteady. "Rose, if you don't put something on right now, I don't think you're going to go to your Kung Fu class today— and that might upset your mom."

Rose didn't look happy, but she turned around and put on a sports bra. She finished dressing quickly, and was getting ready to go— when I blinked, and noticed something. She was apparently going to leave without doing anything with her hair. "Doesn't your hair get in your way when you get all physical?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "I usually wrap it, but I won't have time, tonight."

Whoops. That was definitely partially my fault. Not that I regretted anything. "I can do it," I volunteered. "It's faster when it's someone else's hair."

The fact that she had to sit pretty much between my legs for me to do it right was a lot distracting, but I got done fast. I put it in a ponytail, then wrapped it in a scarf, then added another holder so it would stay put.

"I'll bet your hair used to be a lot longer than it is, didn't it?" Rose guessed. I grinned.

"Oh, yeah_. _I wore it to my waist for a while, but it was too much work to deal with for dancing."

Rose suddenly turned around and straddled me. That was a _very_ nice surprise. She got all snuggly and kissed me, light and energetic. I felt my insides quiver and melt and fuse back together again, and I let my hands, almost by themselves, grasp her butt again. She sighed a little in appreciation, and deepened the kiss.

"Rose," I managed when we parted, my voice all shaky again. "After class, you're free for the night, yes?"

"Not right after," she started to explain. "But I don't imagine it will take too long to find out what Sifu knows about—"

I interrupted her, for the second time that night. Again, not nice— but from her reply, again, she _definitely_ didn't mind. "Then after you're done," I said slowly, "will you come home with me? My parents are out of town 'til Sunday. And I… Rose, I want to make love to you. Tonight."

She stopped in shock, looked me in the eyes, flushed deeply… and nodded more vigorously than I've ever seen anyone nod before.

_Rose:_

Mom was home, sitting in the kitchen, and looked surprised at both how fast I had gotten home, and at the way I wasn't really breathing hard, after running to get there.

I said "Himom," all one word— then grabbed the phone off the hook and dialed Elaine's number, which I'd memorized the night before.

Winston Academy kids get out before public school kids, and she said she was usually home by 3:20. I didn't get out 'til 3:15, so she should be home….

The phone barely rang before she picked it up, and said, "Hello?"

"It's Rose," I said, amazed at how light and happy just hearing her voice made me feel. "I'm home. Mom's here, and wants to meet you."

"Okay," Elaine said, sounding both nervous and pleased. "Should I come the same way we got there last night?"

"Yes, if anybody says anything at Dr. Hubert's, say you're a friend of mine, and coming to see me, then come on to the back door."

"Okay," Elaine said. "I'll be there in a few minutes. I love you, Rose!"

"I love you, too," I said, blushing because I knew Mom was listening. "See you in a couple."

"Ye do blush prettily," Mom said, a trace of the Irish creeping into her voice.

I gave her my best "I'm not going to deign to answer that" look, and Mom cracked up for a minute.

"So, would you two be wanting a ride to your Kung Fu lessons, then?" Mom asked. "That way I can interrogate her— I mean, chat with her!— longer."

"A ride would be nice," I agreed. "Oh, and I was gonna stay after class a little, ask Sifu for some pointers about the test, if that's okay?"

"Certainly." Mom grinned. "And supper?"

"I was gonna maybe see if Elaine wanted to grab something after class?" I said, blushing more. "And… go to her house for a while, maybe?"

"I think that will probably be all right," Mom said. "As long as you're home by ten."

I hugged her— and there was a soft knocking at the back door.

I went and let the girl I loved in to meet my mother.

You know those things you're terrified over in life, the ones that you dread so much you almost make yourself sick? And you know how they usually turn out not so bad?

I had been dreading falling in love and having to introduce the girl I loved to my mom for three years, since I first went to mom and told her I thought I was gay.

And it turned out okay.

After introductions (and some teasing aimed my way) I gave Mom back some of the trust she'd given me, by leaving her alone with Elaine for a while. I trusted her not to pick at Elaine's character, or our sexuality— because she was trusting me to be who I needed to be.

Whoever said "payback is a bitch" forgot that payback is a lot like luck. Sometimes it's a bitch— sometimes it's a sweetheart.

This particular payback felt great.

Laurie came dashing up the steps behind me, and stepped into my room behind me.

"Rose, she's hot," Laurie said. "Where did you meet her?"

"I went to talk to my Daddy last night," I said. "And Elaine sometimes goes to the cemetery to think. We met there."

"I think your mom really likes her," Laurie said. "I mean… she was looking at you guys kissing, and she was smiling a little. I didn't think she liked you being a lesbian."

"I didn't think she did, either," I said, digging my hand and foot pads out of my closet. "But I guess she got used to the idea."

There was a moment of silence while I dug out clothes to wear after class, then Laurie spoke all in a rush. "Daddy really doesn't like it. At all."

"I know," I said. "Mom already suggested that we let him think Elaine's my friend, not my girlfriend."

"That's probably a good idea," Laurie said. "He's pretty much got it in for you already, so why give him more reasons to be mad at you?

"But Rose… I'm glad you're happy."

That stopped me rooting around for my hair-wrap, and sent me across the room to hug her. I had no blood sister, but fate provided me the next best thing, I think.

"Thanks, honey," I said into that mass of incredibly wavy blond hair that she tucked happily under my chin. "That's the second-nicest thing anybody's said to me all day."

"Elaine said she loved you?" Laurie guessed.

"You should go on a game show, with a brain like that," I said, and let go of Laurie to get back to finding my stuff. (I'm not really messy, just sort of comfortably cluttered. And I forget where things are. Sometimes.)

Laurie went off to her room, and I finished finding all my gear. I'd just started taking off my top when there was a tapping on the doorframe, and I looked over to see Elaine standing there, smiling at me.

"Your Mom," Elaine said as she stepped into the room, "is absolutely wonderful!"

I let out a huge sigh of relief and went to hug Elaine. As an afterthought, I shoved my door closed, and then let hug become kiss.

That led to me showing Elaine my breasts in the bright, clean light of my room, letting her look until she told me to get dressed before we started something that might get Mom annoyed at us.

I finished dressing in my Kung Fu uniform, which was a simple pair of loose, comfortable pants in heavy black cotton, and a matching short jacket that buttoned down the front. All the delays meant I wouldn't have time to wrap my hair before Mom was ready to go. Well, I'd have to deal with the occasional face full of hair, and that was all there was to it— I thought.

"Doesn't your hair get in your way when you get all physical?" Elaine asked.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I usually wrap it, but I won't have time, tonight."

"I can do it," Elaine said. "It's faster, when it's someone else's hair."

And she was fast, even though we were both a lot distracted by me sitting between her legs so that she could do it. She used the big braided elastic I handed her to tail my hair, then wrapped the ponytail in the several feet of narrow silk scarf that I handed her, before putting another elastic on the end to hold it fast. She really did know how to do it, and was both fast and efficient.

"I'll bet your hair used to be a lot longer than it is, didn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah," Elaine said, her breath puffing gently against the back of my neck. "I wore it to my waist for a while, but it was too much work to deal with for dancing."

I glanced at the clock. Two, maybe three minutes before mom called us down. I stood up, turned around, straddled Elaine's lap. She was surprised, but not in a bad way. I snuggled up, kissed her lightly-but-eagerly, and felt her hands fall on to my butt again. That stretched the kiss a good bit….

"Rose," Elaine said, her voice again all unsteady, "After class, you are free for the night, yes?"

"Not right after," I said, realizing I hadn't told her about Sifu Archer thinking he knew what we were. "But I don't imagine it will take too long to find out what Sifu knows about—"

"Then after you're done, will you come home with me? My parents will be at the plant until after midnight. And I… Rose, I want to make love to you. Tonight."

All thoughts of the mystery of what I was— what we were— left my head immediately.

I looked up into Elaine's eyes, and saw that she meant exactly what she said— and I couldn't speak for the emotions smacking my brain around, all I could do was nod.

But I nodded harder and faster than I ever have in my life!


	9. Chapter 9

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 9

_Rose:_

"Girls," my mom called from downstairs. "Time to go, come on."

"Yes, Mom," I called back, still staring at Elaine, who was blushing slightly.

Elaine had just told me that she wanted to make love to me that night, after my Kung Fu class was over. She'd asked me to come home with her and….

"We'd better go, before your mom gets suspicious," Elaine said.

"Right," I said, standing up, relishing the feeling of her fingers trailing slowly and lovingly off of my butt. "Sorry, I just… Elaine, I love you!"

"Love you, too," she said, and tugged me out of the room, picking up my sports bag (which held a change of clothes for after class) and handing it to me, as we passed out the door.

Mom was waiting at the kitchen door to the garage. We piled into her Mercedes convertible, and Laurie (who was riding with us, I don't know why) got the shotgun seat, forcing me and Elaine to share the back seat. Imagine our distress!

It was a two-plus mile ride to downtown Bloomington, where Sifu Archer's school was, but most of it was easy, and it didn't take long. Mom pulled to the curb behind another student's mother, and Elaine and I hopped out. Mom leaned out and said, "Rose, home by ten, remember. Do you have money for supper?"

"I'm good, Mom," I said. Jerry was an ass, but part of his self-image was wrapped up in being wealthy, so I got a seventy-five dollar a week allowance. I had to pay for school lunches and my bus rides out of it, but I didn't really mind, that still left plenty to play with. And I was saving up for a DVD burner drive, too.

"All right," Mom said. She smiled at my girlfriend, and said, "Elaine, I'd like to know when you have a dance recital, next year, or if you do any over the summer, please? And it was wonderful to meet you, dear!"

"It was nice to meet you, too," Elaine said. "Thank you, Mrs. Wentworth."

"I think you better call me Kelly," Mom said. "Have a good time, girls!"

"Wow," Elaine said as Mom pulled away. "Rose, your mom is way cool."

"She is, isn't she?" I grinned. "Come on, let's get in there. I want to introduce you to Sifu before class. He… Elaine, I never got to tell you, you distracted me!

"I told Sifu what happened to me yesterday, after school. He said it sort of tickled his brain, and he was going to look into it. Then last night he e-mailed me, and said he knows what I am!"

"He— why didn't you tell me!"

"I was trying to, when you… interrupted me in the best way anybody ever interrupted anybody!" I said, and squeezed her hand. "That was when you told me… what you want to do tonight."

Elaine smiled at me, a slow, sweet, and monstrously sexy smile, and said, "All right, I forgive you, then."

Then we were in front of the desk Sifu keeps in the back corner of the school. He was on his computer, fiddling with a bookkeeping program. He closed it while we stood there, then stood up and said, "Good afternoon, ladies. Rose, is this a friend of yours?"

"More than just a friend, Sifu," I said. "Sifu Camden Archer, this is my girlfriend, Elaine Marshall. Elaine, Sifu Archer is the one who taught me… what I used last night.

"And Sifu… Elaine's like me. Boosted. Jacked up. Whatever it is."

"Really?" Sifu said, sounding intrigued. "That's a huge coincidence, your girlfriend getting the same thing as you did—"

"Um, she got the powers before we met," I said, blushing so dark I almost felt dizzy. "We… fell in love fast, I guess. Last night."

"Ah, the whirlwind romances of youth," Sifu Archer said lightly— but he wasn't teasing, that was the cool part. "Well, I'm happy for you both. And… it might still fit, if what I heard is true."

"What are we?" I asked, dying to know. "What did you find out?"

"Patience, Rose," Sifu said. "After class, my dear."

He started out onto the mat. I motioned to Elaine to sit over where parents and other observers sometimes sat, on a long bench near the door. She dropped down next to Laurie Winter's little brother, and watched raptly.

"Line up," Sifu said softly. He never shouted, or needed to shout.

We did, knowing our places from long habit. This was no beginner's class. Everyone here was within two ranks of their red sash, which is the equivalent of a black belt. (I had my blue sash. I should have had it long before I did— but I had that problem, before.)

And then started the single coolest class of my life.

I wowed them. Everybody. Clumsy, can't-do-a-combination-attack-more-than-three-moves-long Rose knocked their socks off. Flawless forms, letter perfect techniques, no trouble at all with the balance exercises that had fought me for so long, and the calisthenics were a breeze.

Then we sparred.

I waltzed through everyone. I was being extra-careful, because I didn't want to hurt anyone— and I still went through every other student in class like a hot scalpel through warm butter.

Then Sifu cranked it up a bit, just to see what I could do— and I wowed even me.

"Rose, you're doing a fine job tonight," Sifu said, smiling what I recognized as his 'here it comes' smile. "You are taking the red sash test in two days. Do you feel like trying multi-person defense?"

"Yes, Sifu," I said, grinning right back at him. I was about to get my butt handed to me, probably, but I was having a blast!

"Sam, Sylvia and… Phillip. Attack her."

I was standing in the middle of the mats, and the other students were lined up on two walls of the school. As he called their names, the other blue sash student in the room, the girl who had come to us after getting her brown belt in Tae Kwon Do, and the biggest guy in class stepped away from the wall. And when he said "attack her," they did— and they didn't waste time.

In a mere second, I was going under a set of kicks from Sam, sweeping his feet in passing, coming up inside Phillip's reaching arms and punching three times as I straightened, gut, chest and jaw, knocking him backwards, and then… doing the impossible.

Sylvia had come in behind me while I was distracted, and her pad-covered fist was coming at the back of my neck even as Phillip went over backwards.

I didn't see it. I felt it! I knew it was coming, I knew right where she was, and just what to do about it.

I turned my upper body to the right even I crouched and threw up my right hand. As Sylvia's hand passed through the space where my neck had been a tenth of a second before, my right hand wrapped around her wrist. I clamped down hard (not super-hard, but I wasn't going to lose my grip), and snapped my torso back to facing front, holding my right arm out stiff and pulling Sylvia over sideways. As she hit the mat, I released, straightened, fired a short kick at her nose (stopping just before impact), and turned to take out Sam, who was just getting to his feet. I nailed him with a punch-kick combination to the gut (pulled blows, all in fun!), then turned and bowed to Sifu.

For the first time in my life, I saw Sifu Archer speechless. He was staring at me in amazement, and I grinned hugely at him.

It only lasted a second, though.

"Excellent!" Sifu cried. "Is everyone all right?"

"I'm fine," Sam said. "She's got great control."

The others confirmed that they, too, were fine, and Sifu nodded, and said, "Again. Jennifer, join them. And… attack."

I did it again. All four of them went down, and I wasn't touched.

Sifu only grinned at me, and added Jake Fuentes, the fastest boy in class to the mix, next. That time, I went down, while I was trying to put Jack down.

"Sam, take over," Sifu said, after that was done. "Rose, come over here."

We went to the corner, and Sifu said quietly, "Watch me. Do what I do."

For maybe ten minutes, Sifu Archer demonstrated several techniques to me, worked them with me until I had them right. Then, he showed me five forms, worked those with me as well. In half an hour, I had them right.

"Line up." I ran over to line up with the others, and Sifu took over for the last five minutes of class.

"Let me remind you," he said after reviewing what we'd done that night, "that there will be no regular class Friday, and that testing for the red sash will be Friday evening beginning at six. We will meet at Bloomington High School in the gymnasium. Testing is open to all observers, including students and their families— or significant others." He winked at me. "So… if you're subject to stage fright, you'd better beat it soon." We chuckled, and he added, "If you choose to observe, whether you are testing or not, I will see you Friday evening. Otherwise… Monday afternoon."

When we were dismissed, I headed off to the girl's shower and changing room with the others.

I was clean and half-dressed when a pair of too-loud-to-be-casual voices pierced the happy fog of accomplishment I was wrapped in.

"Did you see her staring at us? She has to be some kind of dyke."

The voice belonged to Jennifer Hetzler, who had been one of the groups of four and five to attack me.

"I saw," said Shelley Bohlman. "Gross! You really think she's a dyke?"

"Oh, yeah," Jennifer said, her voice coming around the row of lockers towards me. I became aware that this was deliberate. "All you have to do is look at who she came in with."

I didn't say anything, didn't even look up, as Jennifer and Shelley stood there conversing about how "dykes" were gross, and sick, and perverted, and shouldn't be allowed to take classes with normal people. I just dressed, and stood to leave.

"Hey, _dyke_," Jennifer said. I turned, and she was looming over me. Five-eight at least, probably a hundred and thirty-five pounds.

"Yes, _flood_?"

The big preppy bitch looked dumbfounded at that.

"What did you call me?" she said.

"I called you 'flood.' As in too much water— and easily stopped by a dyke."

She drew herself up, and started to fall into a combat pose.

"Don't," I said. I didn't raise my voice, I didn't reach for her, I didn't take a stance of my own— and still she froze.

"Jennifer, I don't care if you call me a dyke," I said in a level voice. "I don't care if you think I'm grotesque because I'm attracted to girls. None of that means a damn thing to me.

"But if you ever insult my girlfriend like that again— either of you!— I'll have to object. You both saw what happened out there. If I object, I'll do it on the mat, by Sifu's rules. I'll wear pads, and I won't break anything.

"But I will beat you just as badly as I can— _short_ of breaking bones.

"So… shut up, and walk away."

To my surprise, both of them did just that— and I went out to see what Sifu knew about what we are.

Most everyone was gone. Lots of times, Sifu will hold informal classes after the regular ones, where people ask about things that they didn't get right in class. A lot of times, people just hang around to chat. Sifu says he likes all his students, or sees something in them that he could like, so chatting with us after is more the rule than the exception. It's one of the reasons that… well, Sifu Archer was my father-figure, such as I had one. He cared about me, and he tried to help when I needed it, and he listened when I needed to talk.

As I walked over and pulled Elaine to her feet and over towards him, Sifu was telling people that he couldn't talk tonight, he'd promised to help "Rose and her friend" with a problem. Nobody seemed mad at him, or at us.

"Girls, take seats at my desk," Sifu said as we approached.

We sat in a couple of the three chairs normally used by prospective students and/or their parents, and Sifu got rid of everyone fairly quickly. Once we were alone, he sat down across from Elaine and I, and said, "You two… understand that what I'm telling you is not a certainty. That what I'm telling you is conjecture."

"We understand, sir," I said, and Elaine nodded.

"All right." Sensei reached behind himself into a little refrigerator, and produced three bottles of water, gave us two, before he started again. "Rose, you know the history of this school. What you don't know, dear, is the real reason that our founder, Kun Lo Chang, left China and came to America. And in that reason— I believe— lies the key to what you and Miss Marshall have become."

"Call me Elaine, please, sir," she said, smiling at Sifu Archer.

"Thank you, Elaine," Sifu said. "And, when it's a non-instructional situation, you can both call me Camden. If I'm teaching, it's still Sifu, though."

"Yes, Camden," Elaine said.

I tried to say it, I did. It wouldn't quite come out, so I said, "Yes, sir," instead.

Sifu chuckled and went on.

"At any rate… Kun Lo Chang came to America looking for a fresh start, after having failed his charge, and having her die in combat." Sifu sat back, and watched our faces. "Lo Chang was not just a Kung Fu instructor, you see. He was a member of a group called 'the Watchers.' The job of a Watcher was to train and prepare for battle a Slayer— a warrior whose purpose was to destroy vampires and any other supernatural menaces that she should come across. Lo Chang's Slayer was killed by a British vampire, and a comparatively young one at that. He resigned from the Watchers, and fled the shame of his failure by coming to America.

"In those days, there was one Slayer, and _only_ one, at any given time. One would die… and a new girl would be granted the power of the Slayer. Strong, tough, fast, and a natural for combat."

"That sounds right," I said. "But… you said there was only one at a time?"

"I said there _used_ to be one at a time," Sifu corrected. "Something happened a few years ago, some accident— I really don't know much, I'm relying on 'heard from a friend who heard from a friend who heard from some guy'— and now there are _two_ Slayers."

"And they… died? And we got the power?" Elaine looked very upset at the thought. "But… what about the vision, the girl…?"

"I don't know," Sifu said. "I just know that there used to be one Slayer, and now there's two. Past that I— "

"Actually, it's a lot more than two now, if what I found is true."

The voice came from the door into the school— and it belonged to my buddy, Brian Keller. He was standing just inside the door, his school backpack slung by one strap, and a weird, sort-of-amused-sort-of-somber look on his face.

"Brian, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I went looking for something about what happened to you, Rose," he said, walking over to drop in the last chair. "And I found it, I think."

"Show us," Sifu said.

"Is your computer hooked up to the net?" Brian asked.

"Of course," Sifu said. "DSL, even. How else do you think I keep myself amused between classes?"

"Sweet," Brian said. "What browser do you use?"

"Internet Explorer. Why?"

"Trust me?" Brian asked, and held up a CD as he sat down behind Sifu's desk.

Sifu looked at me, and I nodded emphatically. I would trust Brian with my life. And if it involved computers, I wouldn't even sweat while he handled it.

"Go ahead," Sifu said. "But… what are you doing?"

"A lot of serious computer geeks don't like Internet Explorer," Brian said as he popped the CD into the computer. "However, it's really not so bad. The latest version has a lot of ability for the user to tweak. I've done some serious tweaking. These are my final settings. It's faster, more secure, and generally about as good as it can get. I even managed to rig it so that if you download an update of the program, it won't screw up the settings."

"Nice," Sifu said. "You know a lot about this. Can I call you if my computer breaks?"

"Absolutely," Brian said, and scribbled his number and e-mail on a post-it note. Sifu looked surprised, and Brian grinned. "Hey, any friend of Rose's…!

"Speaking of Rose's friends… do I get an introduction?"

"Ack! Sorry!" I said. "Brian Keller, best friend and long-time confidante, meet Camden Archer, Kung Fu teacher, friend, and all around nice guy. And this is Elaine Marshall, love of my life and fellow super-hero. Elaine, meet Brian."

They shook hands all around, and Brian grinned at Elaine and I and said, "Yow, Rose! Good taste!"

Elaine blushed furiously, but smiled a little.

The PC finished digesting the CD, and asked permission to re-boot. Brian clicked yes, and we waited a minute or so for the machine to come back to life. While it worked, he talked.

"I got home and decided to see what I could find out for you, Rose," Brian said. "I hit Google, and started playing around with search strings. I found some stuff, but nothing big, or even serious. Then I got to thinking… most search engines, you register your site. It takes a while to get listed with Google. Or for your site to get 'found' by one of their robots. It's only been a couple days, so, I switched tactics, and started searching _web-hosting sites_. They list new sites daily, as long as they are inside their own servers. I found it, I think. It's on , and this is the only thing it could be."

Once the computer was ready, Brian re-opened the internet connection, and typed something into the address bar. We all stood behind him so we could see.

The page loaded fast— and I knew it was true. As soon as I read the top, I knew. This was about us, about Elaine and I and… and so many others!

_Are you a girl or young woman between eleven and twenty-one who's suddenly stronger, faster and tougher than you've ever been? Than you should be _able_ to be?_

_Do you suddenly know how to fight, and find yourself loving the rush that comes with fighting?_

_Did this happen to you at some time close to noon Pacific Time (Greenwich minus eight) on Tuesday, May 20__th__, 2003?_

_Well, if you are like this, you're probably confused, and maybe even a little scared. Don't be! You've inherited a wonderful power, the power to help people, to save lives! And there are a lot of other girls like you in the world, several hundred at least!_

_You've become a Vampire Slayer— and yes, that does mean that vampires are real. So are werewolves, demons, and a lot of other monsters that you probably thought only existed in horror movies._

_Those things may be attracted to you, may want to hurt you before you come to understand your power. So be careful! Always carry a wooden stake (yes, we're serious). And remember, if you go out at night, don't go alone. _

_You've got to have lots of questions. We know this, and we know what's what. We'll do our best to help you, all of you. There are only a limited number of us, though, so getting back to you may take time._

_Send an email to one of the addresses below, and we'll get back to you as soon as possible._

_We'll update this page often, to keep you informed on the things you'll need to know to stay alive until we get organized. Check back often, we'll be posting a list of common beasties you may face, and other stuff._

_And remember…. __**You aren't alone!**_

"Hundreds like us…." I said. "Hundreds. Oh, man! That's so cool!"

"We're Vampire Slayers," Elaine said softly. "And… we aren't alone."

"Never alone," I said, and squeezed her hand. "But… there are more like us, yeah."

"I was right, then," Sifu said. "I'm glad. And girls… well, you'll need to train."

"Dad's been after me for years to take martial arts," Elaine said. "I guess it's time to start."

"Rose… you realize that I want to help you with this, don't you?" Sifu asked.

"Yes, Sifu," I said.

"Good," he said. "Your mother would probably be suspicious if I suddenly stopped taking payment for your lessons, or I would. So instead… all the private lessons you can find the time for are yours. No charge. Elaine, I won't charge you a cent for lessons."

Elaine bit her lip, then said in a cautious voice, "Should Rose and I really take the same art? I mean— if I take a different style, we cover more bases, right?"

Sifu blinked, looked thoughtful, and said, "All right, then we'll cheat a little."

Sifu walked over to the door into his school, opened it, and poked his head out. He let out with a really sharp whistle, then yelled, "Shiro! Bring your butt over here, I've got one for you!"

He came back in and sat down. Elaine looked at me, and I just grinned at her. I knew what was happening, but let Sifu have his fun.

A couple of minutes later, Shiro Yashida came strolling in. He looked at Sifu Archer (who is maybe forty-five, and at most maybe five years older than Sensei Yashida), and said, "What do you want, you old fool?"

"Old fool?" Sifu said, raising one eyebrow. "This 'old fool' has found you a potential student who's… well, she's got more potential than any other student you're ever likely to meet!

"Elaine Marshall, this is Sensei Shiro Yashida, who teaches Kyokushinkai Karate. Shiro, this is Elaine Marshall, who needs to take martial arts, and who had the innate intelligence to see that doubling up on the style of the person she'd be fighting alongside most often— and she will be fighting— was perhaps not the best idea."

"She will be fighting?" Sensei Yashida said, raising an eyebrow. "_N__eeds_ to take martial arts?"

"She's a Slayer," Sifu said calmly.

"Aaah… and you would take karate from me?" Sensei looked very impressed. "Generations ago, in the 1500s, my many-times-great grandfather's youngest was called. She fought long, she fought hard, and she was brave. She is still revered by our family.

"I would be honored to teach you whatever I can, Miss Marshall!"

Then he bowed to her, very deeply, while I gave Sifu a dirty look. _Heard from a friend who heard from a friend who heard from some guy_, _my butt!_

Elaine blushed very deeply, and bowed back to him, before saying, "The honor would be shared, Sensei. I will do my best to learn what you teach."

They bowed to each other again, and I found myself glowing with pride. Elaine was doing all she could to make this near-stranger feel as honorable as he was honored.

Every time I turned around, I was loving her more than I had the moment before— and I loved that feeling!


	10. Chapter 10

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 10

_Elaine:_

Well, Rose's mom was very cool. So was her Sifu, her class, her friend Brian, and the Vampire Slayer Web site. And so was Sensei Yashida, who I hoped would soon be _my_ Sensei. This day was quickly shaping up to be the second best day of my life….

And I was planning on ending it with a bang, and pushing it over the top to the number one spot!

Still, I didn't want to just drag Rose out of the school— well, I did, in fact, but that wouldn't have been at all polite— so I smiled at Sifu Archer and Sensei Yashida again, then turned to Brian.

"It's been very nice to meet you," I said. "You must be a great guy, if you're Rose's best friend." I smiled at him, and he blushed slightly.

"Uh, well, I try," he joked. "Seriously, though, I'm glad Rose found someone— and since you seem really cool— I'm glad she's you, if that made _any_ sense!"

I grinned. "Yeah, well— I'm glad she's me, too, believe me!"

I turned to look at Rose, because I couldn't _not_ look at her at that point. She was blushing, but looked completely happy, and shot me an endearing and unbelievably _tempting_ smile. Which reminded me of exactly why I wanted to leave….

I turned to Sensei Yashida again, and bowed. "It was good to meet you, Sensei— and you, Camden. I hope to start lessons in a few days, if that's all right with you?"

"Perfectly all right," Sensei replied. "Whenever you wish to start, I will begin teaching you."

"It was nice to meet you, too," Sifu Archer said with a smile. "Now, since you seem about ready to drag Rose away by force— get out of here, you two! Enjoy yourselves!"

Rose blushed, and I knew I was blushing, too, but I smiled. "Thank you!"

I waited until we got outside… then kissed Rose, deeply. She made a noise of contentment and leaned into me, and we just stood there for a moment, kissing, holding and being held.

I pulled away finally, and my heart swelled with love at Rose's slightly dizzy look. "I love you Rose. So much," I said seriously. Then I smiled wickedly. "So— shall we?" I held out a hand to her, courteously.

She smiled. "I love you, too," she said, "and— yes!"

She took my hand, and I entwined fingers with her as we began to walk. "I was thinking," I said, "we could go to that pizza place, just a couple of blocks over." I had a thought, then, with sudden concern, and coughed gently. "Unless you'd… like to go someplace… nicer?"

Rose looked at me, a little surprised, then grinned. "Pizza would be perfect," she said. "I'm starving, and… well… Elaine, anywhere with you is perfect!"

Hearing her say that made me feel like I could float down the sidewalk, feet six inches off the ground. I grinned. "Pizza it is, then!"

We walked in silence for a while— a comfortable silence, fingers intertwined, comfortable with each other. I had expected to be a lot more nervous than I was, tonight— especially considering what we were going to do— but I wasn't nervous at all. Just comfortable, content, and so very in love.

Eventually, I said, "Vampire Slayers."

Rose looked at me, suddenly serious, and nodded. "Uh-huh."

I smiled a little. "It's weird. Something like this should be scary. But— I'm not scared. Not of any of that." I paused, then added, "Not of any of this."

Rose smiled at me, squeezed my hand. "Good," she whispered.

We ordered a large pizza— what Rose called a "cholesterol special," with pepperoni, sausage, bacon, and other goodies. We scarfed down the whole thing, talking about nothing in particular. We also got garlic breadsticks, and ate those more slowly, no longer starving.

"Your friend Brian . . ." I said suddenly. "He's really cool."

Rose smiled, looking a little proud herself. "Yeah, he's great. We've been friends for a really long time. I get a lot of grief at school, but Brian's always there for me. He doesn't care what people say about me. He knows all my school problems, my family problems. I trust him with everything— I showed him my Slayer power as soon as I could, even!"

"He _sounds_ great," I said. "I told my best friend, too— about the vision, and my insane new powers. She was looking for anything that might explain it, but wasn't having any luck. I should call her, tell her not to worry about it . . ." I bit my lip, smiling a little nervously at Rose. "Kimber's been my best friend for a long time. You should meet her— she already wants to meet _you._ We were involved for a while, but I guess we weren't a good match, romantically…."

I looked Rose square in the eyes. "We were sleeping together. We stopped after the whole 'getting caught at school' thing, but I think we would have drifted apart anyway… because it didn't really work. I'm just glad we're still such close friends. I really love her; she's my best friend."

Rose smiled at me. Somehow, she always seemed to know when I was anxious about something, because the first thing she said to me was, "It's okay!"

I must have looked a little surprised, because she giggled. "I'm glad you two love each other. And I'm not upset that you slept with another girl— it was before you even met me— and she's your _best friend,_ so stop worrying about it!"

The relief made me feel about ten pounds lighter, and I hadn't even known I was that worried about it! I sighed in relief. "Thank you. I know I shouldn't have worried about it, but— God, Rose, I love you!"

"Love you, too," she said, and leaned across the table to give me a quick kiss. She didn't check to see if anybody was looking before doing so. She didn't care. Neither did I.

When we finished, I beat her to the counter and paid for the pizza, then linked my arm with hers and dragged her outside. "I'm paying," I informed her. "You can't talk me out of it. It's a date— and I'm treating you!"

She made a face at me. "Okay, okay…."

"Would you like an ice cream cone?" I gestured down the street to the ice cream parlor. I grinned cheekily. "My treat?"

She mock-glared at me. "Sometime, _I'm_ going to take _you_ out, and then _I'll _pay for everything!"

I nodded matter-of-factly. "That's not a threat," I agreed. "When _you_ take me out, _then_ you have the right to annoy me with your generosity. It's my turn right now!"

We held straight faces for a moment, then both burst out laughing.

It was hard to hold hands and eat drippy chocolate waffle cones, but we managed. We didn't talk about anything consequential on the way to my house, just stuff about school, the fencing that Rose was having fun with, the way I was looking forward to possibly trying ballet, now that I could. By the time we got to my house, we were chewing the last bites of our cones, and after I swallowed, I grabbed Rose's hand and kissed it. "This is my house."

Rose blushed, and smiled. "It's nice."

It was, too. It was pretty much a semi-mansion, only built in a residential neighborhood in Illinois. Dad being so high up in the Farm, and both my parents being power-earners, they could afford it.

I showed Rose around briefly, then led her into my room. "This is my room," I said softly. I turned the light on, and smiled at her.

She nodded towards my bed. "That's almost as big as my bed, wow."

I nodded. "It's really comfortable. And it's big enough for pretty much anything we might want to do…."

Rose suddenly looked interested. "That is _really_ tempting…."

She blushed, and smiled… and walked over, put her arms around me, and kissed me. I was pleasantly surprised that she had initiated this herself, and kissed her back with a passion, placing my hands on her hips, curling my tongue into her mouth and making her moan. As she had during our first kiss, she reached down and moved my hands down to cup her butt. As I had before, I reached down past the waistband of her pants to stroke bare skin.

I broke the kiss, pulled back. She was shaking, trembling very slightly. This would have worried me, but the look in her eyes told me it wasn't anything to worry about, and I was trembling as well— it didn't mean we didn't want this, not at all. It was just more than we were used to, more than we knew before we met each other.

I smiled, and took her hands, pulling her gently and walking backwards to the bed. "Come here," I said softly, and sat down. When she sat as well, I reached out, ran a finger lightly down her neck. "May I undress you?"

Her breath caught, and she nodded, eyes wide. "Yes. But… please, Elaine, don't ask. I meant what I said last night." Rose locked her eyes on mine, and blushed, but she said very firmly, "I'm _yours_. I belong to you. You don't have to ask— I know you won't hurt me, Elaine, so you don't have to ask. Just… do what you want to me, or tell me to do it to you— and I will."

That kind of trust was… amazing. I kissed Rose— _my_ Rose!— very, _very _sexually as a thank you, and as an acknowledgement. Then I undressed her, and… well, things got wonderful and blurry for a while. We made love, then we lay afterwards, cuddling.

I was just looking at the clock, deciding that there was time for one more round of loving her. I kissed her, caressed her in a way that made my intentions known, and she responded eagerly—

Which, of course, is when the damned phone rang.

My parents, much as I love them, have the absolute worst… timing… EVER!

Still, I think it alleviated a lot of their worries about my behavior when I snatched up the phone on the first ring and said a… well, it was a moderately cheerful "Hello," because I knew it had to be my parents, or it might have been a snarl.

"Hello, Elaine," Dad said. "You're home earlier tonight, I see."

"Yeah, even I can only spend so much time in Barnes and Noble's," I said, rolling my eyes at Rose. "Besides, they won't get any more new books until Tuesday."

"That figures," Dad chuckled. "So what are you doing tonight?"

"I've got a friend over," I said. "I met her yesterday, she's cool. Her name's Rose."

"And what are you two doing?" Dad asked, sounding a little too casual.

"Not much," I said. "We're trying to find something decent to watch on cable, but… well, it's TV. TV and decent seem to be mutually exclusive. So we'll probably end up with her trying to convince me that BHS is better than Winston, which isn't going to happen until BHS lets me take dancing instead of PE, so there, Rose!"

"Yeah, but it'd be even better if they let you take martial arts classes," Rose called dutifully, playing the part of the competitive teen, and earning a smile and a mouthed, "That's my girl," while Dad chuckled in my ear.

"She's a martial artist, then?" Dad asked. "What style?"

"Tiger and leopard style kung fu," I said. "It looks awfully neat. I was sort of wondering if the offer to take lessons might still be open… but karate instead of kung fu, it would help more with my dancing, I think."

"The offer's open," Dad said. "Look around some after school, or this weekend, find a school you like, and we'll go talk to them once I get back."

"Thanks, Dad!" I said.

"Never a problem," he said. "Hey, talk to your mother, I need to get changed for a late dinner— Big-Big Boss is buying for all of us Little-Big Bosses."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks, Dad— love you."

"Love you, too, Ballerina-girl."

The phone changed hands, and my mother said, "Made a new friend, huh? Well, that's good— but don't let her poison you on private schooling, Elaine."

"Never happen," I said. "I'm a Winston girl— they teach me to dance!"

"That's good," she said. She hesitated a moment, then said, "Okay, your father's got the water running in the bathroom, he can't hear.

"Be straight with me, Elaine, please; is this new friend more than a friend?"

I blushed scarlet, I know, because it's never nice to realize that you're made of glass and your mom can see right through you.

"Yes, Mom, she is," I said. "She's a girlfriend. Her name's Rose, and she's a martial artist. She goes to BHS."

"Is she your age, Elaine?" Mom asked.

"A year younger, but same grade," I said, reaching over to squeeze Rose's hand. "She skipped a grade, she's really smart, on top of being gorgeous and athletic."

"All right, I tentatively approve already," Mom said. "Smart and athletic, and if she's a serious martial artist, she'll have some self-discipline. Now… Elaine, I'm going to put the idea in your father's head that you two might be or become more than friends— and that he needs to get used to that idea. Okay?"

"I— okay." I took a long, deep breath, held it for a second, then let it out. "Okay, Mom. You know him best. You do what you think will work best."

"All right, and thank you for trusting me, Elaine," Mom said. "And for being honest with me.

"Now… are you planning on going out any this weekend? So I know and can tell your father, so he doesn't worry if we call and you aren't home?"

"Well, Rose tests for her red sash— the equivalent of a black belt at her kung fu school— Friday evening, and the testing is open to observers," I said. "I was going to go and watch her get promoted."

"That's fine, your father won't object to that at all," Mom said. She made this little whispery humming noise that she makes when she'd thinking for a second. "And I'll bet there will be a congratulatory dinner thing after, right?"

"I don't really know," I said. "But after listening to her mom rave about watching Rose practice her forms? Yeah, probably."

"Okay, we'll plan on calling right after school if we call at all Friday, honey," Mom said. "So… honey, I ask you one thing and one thing only; if you two make love, stay away from potentially public places, please!"

"Yes, Mother," I said in a small voice— and I know that I must have turned almost plum-colored, I blushed so hard.

"All right," Mom said, and I could hear her grinning just as easily as she could hear me blushing. "We'll call tomorrow evening, honey, and we'll see you about nine Sunday evening. Behave yourself. I love you."

"Love you, too, Mom," I said, and hung up the phone.

"Your mom figured out what's going on, didn't she?" Rose asked.

"Yeah, but… she's okay with it," I said. "And she's going to work on Daddy, some."

"Cool," Rose said. "So… um, where were we?"

"Right here," I said, and slipped across the bed to pick up where we'd left off.

After we made love again, Rose lay there gasping for a couple of minutes before she finally said, "Elaine, that— I can't believe— I had no idea anything could ever be that— that incredibly, wonderfully, perfect!

"I love you, Elaine!"

"I love you," I said softly. "I love you, too, Rose."

"I'm yours, Elaine," she said against my neck.

"Yes," I said, smiling, accepting the gift she offered so freely. "You're mine."

I glanced at the clock by my bed, saw that it was still pretty early, only a little after eight-thirty, and said, "Want to shower, babe? We probably need it."

"Yes, please," Rose said.

We went to the bathroom off of my room (a highly prized luxury in my life) and showered together. Rose… made it into something special, playing bath girl for me, cleaning me first, thoroughly, and very gently. Then she cleaned herself, mostly, making it plain that me helping her more than a little would spoil the moment for her in some way that I can't explain, but that I understood. I helped only with her hair and her back, let her do the rest.

We dried each other— a lot of fun, I recommend it for new lovers!— then dressed, and went back out to my room. It was only ten after nine, so there was no hurry. I'd been thinking about something, and wanted a little more time to think about it before I said anything, so when Rose asked if she could use the computer in one corner of my room, I said yes, and simply sat next to her, thinking about my idea, while she checked her email. Her friend Brian had sent her the link to that site he'd found, and Rose went and checked it again. Nothing new had been added.

"I'm going to email one of these people," she said. "Do you want me to not say anything about you, so you can do it yourself?"

"No, you can tell them about me," I said absently. "Maybe they should know there's two of us— I mean, they say there are hundreds of girls like us, now, but… two of us in one place? Maybe they should know about that, in case that means something really bad is going to happen here."

"Good point," Rose said. "Now, which one to email…?"

I glanced over at the list of email addresses, read them with her.

Buffy: The_. Willow: . Giles: . Xander: The_X_. Dawn: Sunrise_. Andrew: Boba_Fett_.

"I like the sound of Sunrise_girl," I said. "Sounds… friendly. And you know, Dawn is bad for vampires.

"Besides, I definitely want to talk to a girl, and that lets out the Giles one, I bet, and the Xander and Andrew for sure. Since I'm not Wiccan and neither are you, Willow, not the best bet. And as for the first one? Please, who can take someone named 'Buffy' seriously?"

"Good point," Rose said, chuckling. "Okay, I type fast, won't take long."

She wasn't kidding. In just five minutes, she'd summarized all that had happened to each of us, minus the relationship bits, and added her own address and phone number (as well as a note saying that, if they called, please have a girl call, and claim to be a friend).

She had me read it over for approval, and all I had her change was adding my email address, so they could reach me if they wanted. Then she sent it.

"Okay," Rose said, glancing at the clock. "It's nine-thirty. If I go home a few minutes early, it'll look good to Mom. Will you walk me home, Elaine?"

I agreed, and Rose grabbed her bag with her kung fu stuff before we left. Once we were on the sidewalk, I put my arm around her waist and walked as slow as I could. Rose matched my pace, and we dawdled along for a minute before I finally started talking about what I'd been thinking about.

"Rose," I said, "You know I love you, right?"

"Yes," Rose said. "And I love you."

"Good," I said. I hoped she'd understand what I was about to say, and why I was saying it. "Because what I'm about to say may sound a little weird— and I want you to remember that I'm saying it because I want us to be in love forever, Rose, I want you to be mine forever… but we are kind of young, and I think we need to… admit that. And figure out ways to get around the stuff that's likely to come up and sort of… pull a 'life' on us. You know, 'life got in the way,' you've heard it, right?"

"Yes, I've heard it," Rose said, sounding (to my great relief) interested, not at all scared or worried. "But… what do you mean?"

"We're in love. No doubt about that, after the way things worked so perfectly between us a little while ago." I squeezed her waist, felt her squeeze back. "But I'm fifteen and you're fourteen, and I don't even know _of_ but a handful of people who fell in love at our age and lasted until they were eighteen, even, let alone actually know any myself. So I was trying to think of ways to help us stay together forever… and I had this really weird idea…."

"You've got a point about the whole staying together thing," Rose said solemnly. "And I really do want to belong to you, forever. So… let's hear the idea."

"Well, I got to thinking… it's going to be other people that get in our way, if we're like most everyone else," I said. "I mean… one of us wanting another person. Or other people, even. So… we make a deal about that.

"We… don't go looking for other people, Rose, but if one of us meets someone, someone we want to have sex with— 'cause mostly it's gonna be about sex— we don't get all freaky-stupid sneak-around-behind-the-other's-back about it. We just tell the other one first, before we do anything, and unless the other person has some really, really strong objection, we just… let them do it, and promise to come back to each other.

"Like I said, I'm not looking for that, I don't want you to look for it— but it's maybe going to happen, and… and I know you, already I know you, Rose, and when you say you belong to me, I know you mean it— so I think I could let you go have sex with someone else, someone like, I don't know, Kimber, my ex-lover-still-best-friend, and not get stupid about it. I really think I could let it happen, so long as I liked… whoever."

"I… think that's kind of weird, yeah," Rose admitted— but she smiled up at me. "But I like that you think about these things. And… I got to admit, when I think about the bad soap opera that is dating life at BHS, I know what you mean— it's sex, wanting sex from other people, that gets in the way a lot of times.

"So… yeah. Yeah, I can… I like that idea. And I agree, so long as it's not someone like Jennifer Hetzler, whom I loathed for being a stuck-up preppy bitch even before I knew she was a homophobe, I think I could be okay with it, too.

"And… well, maybe… I mean, if it was somebody you thought was hot, too, maybe we could all three do it together…?"

"Oh, look," I said, grinning and kissing her under the streetlight at the corner of Washington and Mercer, "I've created a sex fiend!"

"No, you didn't create a sex fiend," Rose said, stepping closer and tucking her head under my chin for a second. "You just… woke it up!"

I laughed, took her to the oak tree in her back yard, kissed her goodnight there (with a little groping tossed in for good measure), listened to her explain that she had to study tomorrow for finals (mine weren't due to start until Monday) so we couldn't hang out much Thursday, kissed her again, and trotted back home, feeling like ten million dollars.

_Interlude:_

"It's time for stage two," said a voice from the armchair. "And that means some changes that you aren't going to like, Jerry, but… well, if you want to move up, you're going to have to go along with it."

"What sort of changes?" Jerry Wentworth asked. "And why won't I like them?"

"Changes in how you treat your stepdaughter," the voice said. "And you won't like them because you are going to have to make yourself get along with her… and her new girlfriend."

"Oh, hell," Jerry said, and tossed back half the whiskey from the glass he held. "Sir, I know that whatever this is about must be important, but— sir, she's… contemptible!"

"And she's necessary to the plan, Jerry," the voice said. "Further, we need her happy, and her girlfriend… well, lets just say we want them happy, together, and not ill-disposed to you."

"Rose? Necessary to the plan?" Jerry shook his head. "I can't imagine a plan hinging on that little brat."

"You don't need to imagine it, Jerry," the voice said, a note of reproach coming into it. "You just need to make sure you stick to it. Rose and her little girlfriend Elaine are key elements to us getting an inroad to a power that's going to change the world. And you, Jerry are the key to Rose and Elaine."

"All right, I'll— damn," Jerry sighed. "We aren't talking all sweetness and light, are we? With Rose and her fellow dyke, I mean?"

"No, no," the voice assured him. "That would only make Rose suspicious, and thus make Elaine suspicious.

"No, Jerry, you just need to… stop being as open in your dislike. Accept her as she is, or pretend to. Don't harass her, and… don't ignore her. I'm not asking you to hug her and buy her candy, just… try to be a little more accessible. Say hello when you see her. Good morning, good night— things like that. Let her think that you're learning to accept her. She needn't think you like her— just accept her."

"Damn," Jerry said, and tossed back the rest of his drink. "Well, I did agree to this. And it is a way up the ladder. I just wish… couldn't you tell me a little more about what this power is? Why we need to get our hands on it?"

"I can, and I will," the voice said. "Jerry, you know about the balance-shift last Tuesday, don't you? The shift between good and evil?"

"I heard, yes," Jerry said. "I heard that the Slayer managed to beat the First Evil— and did it by activating all the Slayer Potentials she had with her."

"That's close to what happened, Jerry," the voice said. "But not quite all of it.

"Buffy Summers didn't activate all the Potentials that she had with her— she activated every Potential Slayer on earth between the ages of eleven and twenty-one. Accounting's best guess is that that means somewhere around two thousand girls, Jerry. All with the Slayer's power, speed, grace… it would have come on them suddenly, of course, sometime around two PM local time last Tuesday…."

For a moment, Jerry didn't get it— then his eyes widened.

"Oh, crap on a candlestick!" he said. "Rose— she got into that fight a little after two. She won, she's never won a fight before. Then later… crap! That little bitch is a _Slayer!"_

"She is," the voice confirmed. "She and her little friend— who's also a Slayer— are the key to us getting our hands on some of that power, Jerry. So you see how important this is?"

"I do, sir," Jerry said. "I do… and I'll do as you say. I'll learn to live with her. And to… keep the peace, at least.

"Is there anything else I need to do?"

"Actually, yes," the voice said. "Late Sunday afternoon, Elaine Marshall's parents are going to die. Her only other relatives are grandparents on her mother's side, too old to care for a teen-aged girl. Your wife is going to ask if you are willing to try and get legal custody of Elaine Marshall— and you're going to say yes. We'll make sure you get custody, of course."

"_Two_ Slayers?" Jerry said. "I'm going to live here with two Slayers? Isn't that… a little risky? I mean— what if they figure out something's wrong? Or that I'm up to something? Or… what if Buffy Summers comes here?"

"It's a low risk," the voice said. "Our people in Divinations say that there's a sixty-plus percent chance that Buffy Summers will be going to Europe for a well-earned vacation. The rest of the chances are a little vague… evenly split between her going to Cleveland to deal with the Hellmouth there, and just… going back to normal, whatever normal is for a girl like her. Who knows, maybe she'll just retire? We can certainly hope.

"But… well, if you'd rather we worked out a way to pass all this on to someone else, Jerry—"

"No, no!" Jerry said. "I'll handle it. I mean— a promotion, a raise… and I admit, the brat's mother… she's great in bed."

"All right then," the voice said. "So, we're all clear?"

"I think so, unless there's something we haven't discussed from your end," Jerry said.

"Oh, you know, actually, there is," the voice said. "We'll be doing the spell to bring the Marshall girl's parents to their untimely end from the Bloomington offices, Jerry. Why don't you arrange to be there? It's a good way to seal the bargain, if you help bring the girl into your home."

"I… yes, sir," Jerry said, sighing acceptance. "What time and where, sir?"

"Three o'clock, in the larger diagram room, sub-basement four," the voice said. "No need to wear a suit, casual dress is fine."

"I'll be there," Jerry said. "Thank you, sir."

"You know, Jerry, we've known each other a long time, and you're moving up in the firm," the voice said. "I think it's time you dropped the 'sir'— you can call me Holland."

"Thank you, Holland," Jerry said, and watched as the image— or maybe the ghost, he wasn't sure and didn't really want to _be_ sure— of Holland Manners faded swiftly from sight with a jaunty little wave.


	11. Chapter 11

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 11

_Rose:_

Mom was in the kitchen, making a bowl of popcorn the old-fashioned way— big honking skillet, cooking oil and butter. She looked at me, smiled a little ruefully, and said, "Honey, you really better never play poker."

"Huh?" I said, wondering where that had come from.

"Rose, your face broadcasts your every emotion," Mom said. "And… while I'm not going to demand an answer of any kind, confirmation or denial, I'd bet my Mercedes right now that you and Elaine _are_ intimate, now."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, looking at the floor— but smiling so wide it hurt. "I… you aren't mad?"

"No, dear," she said. She hesitated, then looked resolute. "Rose… deep, dark secret time, okay?"

"Yes, Mom," I said, and offered a hooked little finger. "Pinky swear!"

Mom hooked her little finger with mine and said solemnly, "Pinky swear.

"Rose, I'm not mad, I'd have no right to be mad— because I made love with your father on our second date. Furthermore, I started it."

"Oh," I said, my eyes widening. For the first time in my life, my Mom had slapped me with the dreaded 'Too Much Information.' Weird feeling. "Um, okay. Well, thanks, Mom. For understanding."

"It's all right, Rose," Mom said. "I think… well, I guess it's funny, but the last couple of days, you've been… different. More centered, maybe? Anyway, it's made me feel like I needed to get _us_ centered, you and me, like we used to be. And… honesty is the best way to do that, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," I said, and hugged her so that she couldn't see my apparently traitorous face. I _wasn't_ being as honest with her as I could, and that… hurt. I wanted to fix it, and I needed to think of how to fix it. Maybe…. "Mom? That drive Sunday, is that still on?"

"Very much on, Rose," Mom said. "But… there's another thing. Your test, Friday? I'll still be able to come, but I won't be able to take you out after as congratulations, honey— I forgot that Jerry has a party at his boss's place, and we'd agreed to go. He's okay with me being late— we talked about it just a few minutes before you came in— but I am going to go. So I'll watch through you being awarded your belt, stay long enough to hug you after you get it— and then I'll have to go. But I'll make Grandma Riley's fried chicken on Sunday for a congratulations dinner, how's that?"

"That just rocks," I said, grinning. "I'd rather have fried chicken you made from that recipe than any restaurant food in the world, Mom.

"But about that drive… could we go somewhere really— really isolated, I guess? I have something I need to tell you. I can't… Mom, I need us to be as alone as we can get when I tell you this, not because it's bad, but because it's something that's supposed to be a secret."

Mom looked at me oddly for a moment, then turned and shook popcorn into the pan, the three "starter kernels" she'd put in having popped. She looked back and said, "All right, Rose— how about we go to Comlara Park? We can find someplace around Lake Evergreen where no one's around."

"Perfect," I said. "Mom… thanks. What's different about me… I want to tell you about it. I think I need to, even. And I'm so… Mom? I'm more glad than I know how to say that me getting this way— it feels like maybe me changing like this, it changed us. You and me, and the way we couldn't get along." I stopped, sniffled, almost-crying-hiccupped, and said, "I missed you. I missed you, and I'm really sure that was more my fault than yours, and oh, god, I'm so glad it's better!"

Mom shook the popcorn, turned around, grabbed me and _crushed_ me in a hug— and I was never so glad to be crushed in my whole life. I hugged back, hard, but not Slayer-hard, and we stood there for a few seconds, before she let me go, shook the popcorn again— then hugged me that hard _again_.

"No fair," I sniffled. "You're making me all weepy, lady."

"Oh, and you're not doing the same to me?" Mom said, just as sniffle-sounding as me. "I have to go sit with someone else, you can go straight to bed, and not be embarrassed by red eyes and a runny nose.

"But I don't care, Rose. All I care about is having you back, and I do. I do have you back, and you've got me back, and that's all I care about."

We stood there hugging until she had to turn to shake the popcorn (and I wasn't even a little upset by that— burned popcorn smells worse than anything in the world but burned hair and burned person), and then she turned back and hugged me _more_.

I swear, between Elaine and I making love and my Mom hugging me, _cuddling_ me like that, I was as happy as I'd been since Daddy died.

Finally, she had to pay attention to the popcorn completely, and we broke the hug, and blew our noses. Then she put popcorn in a big bowl for her and Jerry, and a couple of smaller ones, one each for me and Laurie.

Jerry came in while she was doing that, and he shocked the living hell out of me— he was civil to me.

"Hello, Rose," he said. I replied cautiously, and he said, "Kelly, do we have any Sprite? I looked earlier, but I didn't see any."

"I put some in the freezer for you about an hour ago," she said. "You forgot to put in a new bottle after you emptied the last one."

"Ooops— right, that's when the office called." He shook his head, and said, "You know, you'd think that when the courts shut down, the lawyers would shut up."

I laughed aloud, and Mom and Jerry both looked at me in surprise. "Sorry, Jerry," I said. "But… well, it was funny."

"Yes, well, it's also true, sadly enough," he said, grinning ruefully. He poured himself a glass of soda, then said, "News is about to start, I'm going to see what's up in the world before Jay Leno starts making fun of it."

"I'll be there in a second," Mom said. She watched him go, then said, "Well, dear— you should go to bed. Do you think you'll want breakfast again in the morning?"

"Probably," I said. "Sifu showed me some new forms, I'm going to work on those, and the stuff for my test, so I'll probably be hungry again."

"All right, I'll plan on that," Mom said. She hugged me hard one more time, kissed my cheek, let me kiss hers, grabbed her popcorn and went to the living room. I grabbed my popcorn and Laurie's, and followed her. As I started up the stairs, I called, "Good night, Mom." Then, figuring it couldn't actually _hurt,_ I added, "Good night, Jerry."

"Good night, honey," Mom said.

"Good night, Rose," Jerry said, his tone level and perfectly civilized, if not especially warm.

I went upstairs thinking that if the Slayer powers I'd gotten had somehow made Jerry into less of an ass-hat, they packed some serious power, all right.

I gave Laurie her popcorn, told her good night, and let her get lost in her book again before going to my own room.

I did remember to talk to Brian online, like I'd promised, but I didn't stay long, it was late. He was cool about it, though, accepted my thanks for finding the Slayer site for us, and thought it was good that I'd already emailed someone there. When I told him that Jerry had been civilized, he seemed to think it might have something to do with the video we'd captured of me showing him up, and I agreed. That made sense, and made me feel better. The idea of Jerry _not_ being a contemptible jackass was a world-shaker. Like suddenly waking up one day and finding out that your parents are aliens from another planet, and that in your natural form you look like a bright purple baboon with lobster claws for hands and great big antennae where your eyes ought to be— totally alien and impossible to believe.

I logged off pretty quickly, as he had to get to bed, too, and read for fifteen minutes before shutting off my light and going almost straight to sleep.

I got up at five, this time, went out into the yard the same way as last time, and did my forms, working hard on the new ones Sifu Archer had showed me, wanting them reflexive, not thought out. I did okay, I'm pretty sure.

Mom made me my absolute favorite breakfast, a bacon, green pepper and Monterey Jack omelet, with more bacon on the side, and a couple of English muffins with apple jelly. This time, she put so much food in front of me that I didn't need to add Pop-Tarts after, though I did grab a second glass of milk.

When I left for school, Jerry actually said, "Good luck on the finals."

Weird. Dealable, sure, but weird.

Finals that day were pretty much a breeze. I walked away from school happy with my performance, comfortable that I'd keep my A grades in all those classes— English, American History and Typing II (where I _knew_ I had an A— I typed faster than the teacher).

Elaine came over for an hour after school, sat on my balcony with me and Brian, and we three just… talked. Or at least we just talked until Brian snapped his fingers and said, "Hey, did you get an answer to that email you sent the slayer-people, yet?"

"Crap, I never checked!" I said. "Come on, we'll look now."

I had mail from Sunrise_girl, and I didn't hesitate to open it in front of either of my friends. It read:

_Rose —_

_Okay, you're right— two of you in one town is kind of weird. Buffy and Giles both agreed about that, right away. (Buffy is the boss, the "Prime Slayer" they call her, and also my big sister— but I forgive her for that. Most times. Giles is the only full-fledged Watcher left— A Watcher is sort of a Slayer coach, and in charge of figuring out what monster a Slayer's dealing with, this time around. Also, he's sort of me and Buffy's dad-figure, except that would embarrass him a lot, so don't mention it to him.)_

_So someone— maybe all of us— will be coming to Bloomington as soon as we can, to see if we can't get a handle on what's going on, and sort of check you guys out. Buffy says if there are two of you, there's probably a reason for that, and she wants to kick-start your training a little, if we can manage it, and scope out the sitch._

_Anyway— I hope you're not too freaked out, and that we can meet in what some people say is the "real world" sometime soon. You be careful in the meantime, and that's not just me talking— that's all of us, Slayers, Watchers (and I include myself in that category, even I am still only a junior apprentice), witches and— well, all of us._

_Buffy says that you and Elaine should both carry a stake at all times, not just after dark (never know when you might get stuck out after dark, right?) and Giles agrees. (So do I, and I'm not a lot older than you, so maybe that carries some weight?)_

_I'm cc-ing this to Elaine, too, just to be sure all bases are covered._

_Be careful, Rose, Elaine. Don't get hurt before I can meet you!_

_Dawn Summers_

_P.S.— you guys are the very first to contact us, way ahead of when we thought anyone would— Willow, who's as good with a computer as she is with magic, says to tell your friend Brian that he's damned smart, finding the site like he did!_

"Wow," I said. "Okay, that's cool. And… Elaine? Can you make a stake out of something when you get home?"

"I can," Elaine said. "Dad's got a bunch of tools and stuff in the basement— he makes toys and stuff for a hobby. I can make a stake, and I will, soon as I'm home."

"What about you, Rose?" Brian asked, still grinning over the compliment in the P.S.

"I'm covered," I said. "I've got a knife of Daddy's that mom gave me after he died, I'm gonna whittle down a tree branch while you quiz me, after while."

We talked a little more, I kissed Elaine goodbye, she took off, and Brian and I fell to the evil task of trying to wrap my brain all the way around Algebra II. After a while, when we took a break, I went out and found a couple of likely-looking tree branches, and sat and whittled them down with daddy's big old buck knife while he quizzed me over various formulas. They came out right, sturdy, but sharp.

_Elaine:_

Wow. The Prime Slayer, the boss-girl was… _Buffy?_

I just hoped she wasn't the airheaded, bubble-bodied, swimsuit-model-type that that particular name made pop up in my head.

I went home early, to let Rose study. Kelly was downstairs, and we talked for fifteen minutes or so before I left, just talking about the differences between public and private schools and about dancing— it was neat. I really liked her, and she seemed to like me, which was a relief so big it could've sunk the Titanic.

I went home and promptly went to Dad's basement workshop. I'd watched him working a bajillion times, and even helped some— making toys is just fun, and he always gives them to the Salvation Army or Toys for Tots at Christmas time, it's neat— so I knew how to use the tools safely, had used most of them. I found a piece of heavy oak dowel in his scrap bin, and cut it down to about sixteen inches, then mounted it on the lathe and used the roughing gouge to take out a double-angled chunk near the center. I then took the dowel out, broke it at the narrowest point, and used a grinder to sharpen the two slightly blunted ends of the two almost-stakes, making them actual stakes. Two eight-inch stakes, half an hour's work.

I cleaned up Dad's shop, leaving it just as I'd found it, put the stakes in my purse, and then changed into my leotard and went to the little dance studio Dad had built for me in the basement. I took several CDs with me, all homemade compilations of "acceptable" music for my final dance-slash-exam in my dance class. Three rules; no vocals, no single-instrument pieces— just piano, just guitar, just sax, like that— and it had to be longer than five minutes, to show that you could dance that long, and think of that much in the way of dancing.

I didn't mind. I had a lot of electronic new age music that would work great.

I took most of an hour to settle on a piece, and it's one I would never have tried before getting Slayer-ized— it was hard, driving, and had several tempo changes. The piece was actually two, but they had no perceptible gap between them; Generation Prelude and Generation, both by an American Indian new age artist named Peter Buffet. I set those two songs on replay, then sat and listened for a three replays, letting my head put what I wanted to do with my body to the music— then I got up and tried to match my vision to actual movement.

After an hour, it didn't suck _completely._ An hour after that, I might have been willing to dance the better parts for Rose— but never for Rose's mom, or Miss Sorenson.

I needed work yet— but I needed food more. I went upstairs, ate two cans of my secret-vice-food (Chef Boyardee Beefaroni) and a half a loaf of garlic bread, then sat and watched TV for an hour to let my food settle, and talked to my folks when they called —before I went back to dancing.

By the time I went to bed, I'd have let Rose watch all of it, and her mom and Miss Sorenson parts of it. That kind of progress made me feel great. I could never have done it before the Slayer powers came along, and I knew it— but the _skill_ had been there all along, just not the strength to use it properly.

I showered about ten, checked my email, re-read that message from Dawn Summers, answered a mail from Kimber asking if there was anything new in the "weird world" by summarizing that note, then went to bed and almost straight to sleep.

I love dancing, but it sure wears a girl out.

Morning came, and I again woke up obscenely early, decided that I'd better get used to it, and went outside to dance. Our yard was nice and level— daddy hired a landscaping service to take care of it, and they were meticulous about it— so not-serious dancing I could do out here, and this was just for the sheer, unbridled fun of it. Silly as it sounds, I danced to the music in my head, and I loved every second of it.

School was great that day. Kimber was excited about the Slayer group maybe coming here, and her maybe getting to meet "a real, serious witch," like it sounded like this Willow person had to be.

And in dance, I wowed Miss Sorenson. She had us working on individual dances for exams, and walked around asking about any trouble spots. I asked her about a spot that was fighting me, a place where I did several ballet movements together, then tried to move into modern dance naturally and smoothly. The transition just hadn't been working. After watching me try it the first time, Miss Sorenson stared at me for a long moment, then shook herself— and gave me a smile that, had I not had Rose, would probably have sent me head-over-heels in love with her.

"Elaine… my god, girl, the improvements you've made!" She shook her head in amazement, then said, "Okay, I don't know what you're dancing to, Elaine, but I think I can help, if this will work with it; instead of trying to go to the modern from that last _grand jeté en tournant, _try adding a pirouette— two if they'll fit the music— and going from there. Try it dry, see if you agree that the idea might work."

I did try it, and it did work— with just one pirouette, even, since I made it a pirouette "with attitude," as much modern as ballet. Miss Sorenson agreed with me that it looked good, and I knew I could make it fit the music.

I almost floated home, high as a kite on her praise, and eager to get changed and go to Rose's house— I was riding with her and Kelly to Rose's red sash test.

I changed to jeans and a polo, brushed my hair again, grabbed my purse, and strolled to Rose's house, cutting through the yard of the nice-guy dentist (whom I still hadn't actually seen) and straight to Rose's back yard— where I found Rose moving through a form like I'd never seen while Kelly and Laurie sat on the back steps and watched with wide-eyed amazement. I went wide around Rose, sat down on the back steps next to Kelly, and stared myself.

It wasn't just Rose, and how damned beautiful she looked, how gracefully she moved.

No, it was also the sword.

Tiny little Rose, almost two inches under five feet tall, had a three-foot-long Chinese long sword in her hands, almost a foot of bright red tassel dangling from the hilt of the sword, enhancing the look of every move she did. Rose was doing a form that involved the sword, punches, kicks, blocks and dodges, as well as every combination of any and all of the above that you can imagine— and maybe some you can't, if you aren't a big fan of chop-socky movies.

The sword spun around her body like a cut-loose-and-pissed-off propeller, then it stopped, and she fired a series of kicks, spun under the attacks of an imaginary opponent, leaped into the air, spinning, sword spinning around her, kicked out, hit the ground rolling, bounced up— and attacked again.

I'd seen her fight, and that had been gorgeous. The forms she'd done in her class Wednesday night had shone as things of beauty. The sparring that she'd done that night had been a symphony of explosive movement, a ballet of purest controlled violence— and all of it paled beside this. This… this was _dancing!_ Dancing with a sword as partner, dancing with moves I'd never have thought of as dance moves— but dancing, and never mind anything else.

I melted. I fell in lust with her more powerfully than ever, fell in love with her all over again.

Finally, the form built to a crescendo— even we three non-martial-artists could see the end coming, as Rose increased the speed of the sword-swings, bringing the blade in close to her body, dangerously close, I thought, spinning arms and sword and body, lashing out with feet as the blade blocked the blows of an imaginary opponent by simply being everywhere around my Rose at once— and then she was in the air, spinning, both legs out, the left providing stabilization for a powerful, swiping kick from the sweeping-around right, the sword following her right foot around and— down.

Rose hit the ground like a cat, if the cat knew how to look like a kung fu master. She landed in a menacing sort of crouch, left foot straight out to her side, right cocked at the knee, torso bent forward inside her cocked leg so that her (very small) breasts were almost touching the ground, left arm up and out, slightly back, like an extended wing, right arm out in front of her, arm, hand and blade pressed against the ground.

I swear to you, when she landed, I heard— just in my mind, of course— the sound of a giant stone hammer hitting a stone floor in a giant, vault-ceilinged room. It _echoed_.

"My god, Rose!" Kelly said after a moment. "That was— I never imagined! Rose, that was beautiful!"

"And how!" Laurie said, as Rose got slowly to her feet, grinning like a happy maniac, looking like she'd just finished a casual stroll around the house, not a form that would probably impress Jet Li.

I just walked over to her, took her in my arms, and kissed her. No words could possibly have said what I felt right then, and the kiss at least came close.

When we broke, both gasping, Laurie was giggling, and Kelly was saying something— but I didn't really pay attention. I just looked at my wild Rose and said, "I really hope the red of your sash doesn't clash with your hair!"

"Sure, an' ye said a _mouthful,_ lassie!" Kelly said— and Rose burst out laughing.

"Okay, Rose— I know you don't want to eat too close to your test, but would a light meal work now?" Kelly asked.

"Really light," Rose said. "More like a big snack, maybe."

"How about some fruit salad?" Kelly asked. "I've got several kinds of fruit— and Elaine, if you're hungry, I've got plenty."

"That would be great, Mom," Rose said. "Elaine?"

"Maybe a small dish?" I said. "That does sound good, and I did have dance class after I had lunch."

"Come on, then," Kelly said, and led us inside.

She cut and chopped with speed worthy of a professional chef, and soon set bowls of diced cantaloupe, watermelon, apple, pear and peach, liberally sprinkled with strawberries that had been cut in half, in front of all three of us, then sat down with a bowl of her own.

"So how long will the testing take, Rose?" Kelly asked. "So I can give Jerry an idea of when I'll get to the party tonight."

"I should be done by eight, maybe a little after," Rose said. "They're only testing for the red sash tonight, and only four of us are testing. Not too much after eight, maybe even a little before. You shouldn't be too late."

"All right," Kelly said. "I'm sorry about the conflict, Rose— I'd like to take you out for dinner after, really."

"No, it's all good," Rose said. "I'd rather wait until Sunday and have Grandma Riley's chicken. Favorite food ever, Mom."

"Elaine, can you join us Sunday night?" Kelly asked. "About six?"

"I can, and I'd like that," I said. "I'll just study during the day, instead of at night. My finals start Monday, are over Tuesday, except that I have to do my Dance exam Wednesday. Normal PE classes don't have an exam, but some of the special versions do, including dance."

"Oh, I hope we can convince you to show to us, after," Kelly said. "Or me, at least— I'm greedy!"

"After the exam, sure," I said, laughing. "Not before— I'm nervous enough about my teacher seeing it, I should get that out of the way before doing it for an audience."

"You'll be fine," Rose said casually. "You're so graceful it's scary, Elaine— all you have to do is make that work for you and you've got it locked."

"Thank you," I said, and squeezed her hand.

We finished our snack, and Rose's stepdad came in as Rose was rinsing our dishes.

"Hi, Jerry," Kelly said, and kissed him quickly. "How was your day?"

"A bit maddening, but only a bit," he said. "I spent it in client meetings. You know, the practice of law would be a lot easier if the clients would accept that the damned TV shows they watch are not actually real, and do not actually represent how the law works.

"Rose, who's your friend?"

"Oops, sorry," Rose said. She looked at me— no one else could see her face, as Laurie had gone to hug her dad— and made a horrible face, then said, "Elaine Marshall, this is my stepfather, Jerry Wentworth, who, as you heard, is a lawyer. Jerry, this is my friend Elaine— she goes to Winston, and she's a dancer."

"Nice to meet you, Elaine," Jerry said, giving me a handshake that felt… polite, at least. Not exactly welcoming or friendly, but polite.

"Nice to meet you, too, sir," I said. "And I do feel sorry for you— how many people watch Law and Order and think that's the real deal? I bet that sucks."

"Better Law and Order than old Perry Mason episodes," Jerry said lightly. Then he shuddered theatrically and said, "Or— heavens forbid!— Matlock!"

"Ugh," Kelly said. "I never understood the appeal of Matlock. And the idea that people think it's real… how stupid can you get?"

"Mom, people watch _Survivor_." Rose snorted and shook her head. " 'Reality TV' my butt!"

"Point," Kelly said. "Oh, well. Girls, you go talk or something— I'm going to go get ready— Rose, I hope no one will think you have a weirdo mom who puts on a nice dress and jewelry to go to her daughter's sash test."

"If they give me any grief, I'll kick their butts," Rose said lightly. "Come on, Elaine, I'll show you some of the videos I've made on my computer. Later, Jerry."

Laurie followed us upstairs, but went to her own room and started gathering her things for a slumber party she was going to that night to celebrate the end of school.

Rose showed me some videos she'd made, splicing together clips from movies she liked and setting them to songs she liked— she really was pretty good at it. We watched seven or eight of those, and I saw her starting to get twitchy.

"You, young lady," I said, standing and taking her hand to pull her towards her balcony, "need to relax. Come on."

We sat on the balcony for a while, on the patio-safe loveseat she had out there, snuggled and kissed some, but nothing more. Still, it helped her calm down. At five-twenty, she went in and started changing, moving quickly and efficiently, not even seeming aware of my gaze while she stripped to skin, then dressed. I sat her down between my legs and wrapped her hair, being very, very meticulous, after having seen the careful, almost ceremonial way she moved while dressing.

We went downstairs, and she collected the soft leather case she'd put her sword in, a staff a foot longer than she was tall, and led me into the living room.

Kelly was there with Laurie and Jerry, dressed in this midnight-blue dress that looked absolutely gorgeous on her, and she stood up when Rose and I came in.

Laurie came over and hugged Rose hard, said, "Good luck— not like you'll need it, after what you showed us this afternoon."

"Thanks, Laurie," Rose said. "Mom, you look like ten million bucks. If anybody says anything to me about how you're dressed, I'm just gonna write it off as jealousy— _their_ moms won't look this good."

"Thank you, dear," Kelly said. She gave Jerry another quick kiss, said, "You know where the Brandts live, right?"

"Over on Jersey, yes," Jerry said. "Don't worry, I'll get Laurie there. And I'll see you when you get to the party— don't hurry, this is a big night for Rose."

I felt Rose twitch at that, and smiled a little. She really wasn't sure what to make of her stepfather being decent to her— I just felt glad that I'd missed the days when they only snarled at each other.

"Well, I'm sure she can get a ride home— Sifu Archer will bring her if needed, I called yesterday and asked about it." Kelly hugged Laurie, pecked Jerry again and said, "Let's go, girls."

"Good luck, Rose," Jerry said.

"Thanks, Jerry," Rose said. "See you tomorrow, Laurie."

We went to the car, then to Rose's high school and the gym. There were probably a hundred people there, mostly other students, since only a few were actually testing. At the base of the opened bleachers, Rose hugged her mother very, very tightly, and held it for a minute, then hugged me just as hard, kissed me briefly, said, "Here goes nothing," and walked over to where Sifu Archer stood near the edge of the mats that had been set up.

Kelly and I went and found good seats down near the front, which were being held for "Candidates' families" by a young man I recognized from Wednesday night's class, the one who'd complimented Rose's control after that first round of… what had Sifu Archer called it? That first round of "multi-person defense," that's what it was.

"Mrs. Wentworth, Miss Marshall," he said formally. "I'm Sam Hollister, I train with Rose.

"Mrs. Wentworth, I know you came to Rose's last test, and I know you had to be disappointed when she didn't pass— but you don't need to worry, not this time. Rose's reflexes and reactions have finally caught up with her knowledge— and she's going to ace this.

"And… well, she won't be able to talk to you before the test is over, so I'll tell you a secret— Rose is testing not just for her red sash. Sifu says she's ready for her red-and-blue sash."

"Oh, my god," Kelly said. "I've heard Rose talk about that— isn't that as big a step as the red sash?"

"Maybe bigger," Sam said. "But she'll get it— Sifu Archer's sure."

I must have looked confused, because Sam looked at me and said, "Miss Marshall, the red sash, in Sifu Archer's school, is the equivalent of a black belt. It's like getting a bachelor's degree in college. You're qualified as a warrior.

"But the red-and-blue sash says that you aren't just a warrior— you're a teacher of warriors. Like getting a master's degree lets you teach college level classes."

"Oh, wow," I said. "That's… is that why he took her aside and showed her that extra stuff Wednesday night?"

"That's it exactly," Sam said. "He said she absorbed everything he showed her, like a dry sponge soaking up a small spill. Impressive as hell, that. I'm looking forward to her test— and damned glad I don't have to face her in multi-person defense again."

After that, Kelly sat and grinned, virtually shone, until the testing started.

And I couldn't blame her.

The first part of the test was done verbally, the candidates reciting portions of the history of their school to Sifu Archer and the three other men and one woman who joined him as judges, three of them Asian, probably Chinese. That took maybe fifteen minutes, then they started the interesting stuff.

But just before they did, five people came in and sat down a ways to my right, three young women and two men, one young, one middle aged. All three girls were pretty, and the older man was… appealing, in a sexy way. The younger guy might have been, but he needed to lose some weight, and the eyepatch he wore was sort of… distracting.

I only noticed them because one of the girls, the smallest of the three, a slender little blond, said as they passed us, "All I'm saying is that I think I might like living in someplace called Normal for a while— just so I can say that I've lived a Normal life at _some_ point in my existence."

(Well, okay, I also noticed because all the girls were all hot. And one girl— the one with a hat on, a fedora that looked cute on her, and she'd tucked her hair up under it— looked… a little familiar.)

Then the actual technique testing started, and I forgot about those people for a while, just watched Rose as she did everything asked of her with style, grace and apparent ease.


	12. Chapter 12

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 12

_Rose:_

I started my red sash test a little bit nervous, but that faded really fast, as I got caught up in what I was doing.

I was the only girl testing that night, and I felt like a midget, since the next shortest person was about five-eight, but that didn't really matter— I forgot that, too, as I focused on what I needed to do to pass the test.

I did okay— but Paul Christopher, a candidate I didn't really know (he took classes Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday to my Monday, Wednesday and Friday), hurt himself demonstrating an aerial kick when he landed wrong. He didn't break his ankle, but he did definitely sprain it pretty badly. While the five Sifus were fussing over him, I looked around, spotted Mom and Elaine, waved at them, watched as they waved back. Then I looked around the crowd a little, spotted Sam Hollister, exchanged nods with him, noted the conspicuous absence of Jennifer Hetzler and Shelley Bohlman, grinned over that.

I recognized most everyone, really— I'd seen them all before, at least a time or two— except for one group of five that sat a ways to Mom and Elaine's right, my left. Three girls and two guys, none of whom I'd seen before— but each one saw me looking and did something to acknowledge my gaze.

The older guy at the back inclined his head at me, a grave, respectful sort of nod. The younger guy with the eyepatch next to him sketched a little salute. The girl in the fedora gave me a grin and a thumbs up. The blond next to her— who, despite being taller than me, I was pretty sure, gave off waves of "tiny"— gave me a nod with a smile that plainly said, "You're doing it right," and the absolute babe next to her— tall, gorgeous figure (I could tell even from the floor of the gym), long brown hair— gave me a delighted-shy smile and a little wave. I had no idea who these people were, but still, they were offering me greetings— and my parents raised me to be polite when possible. I bowed in their direction.

Damned if the little blond didn't immediately stand up and bow right back, correctly, eyes up and on mine, then sit down and look… pleased.

Then I forgot them, as the testing judges called the three of us who remained to attention again.

I aced the technique test, though I didn't see any of the stuff that Sifu had showed me Wednesday night on the test. Then the three of us did our open-hand forms as a group, and we all passed— though I got a big grin from Sifu Archer that said as plain as words ever could that I'd outshone the other two, and one of them— he was from a Peoria school, and I'd missed his name— said, "Damn, you're a hard act to follow!" as we walked back to our places on the line.

The weapons forms— two staff and two sword for me, two saber and two sword for one of my fellow candidates, two saber and two spear for the last— we did individually.

We drew lots for order, and I drew last— I didn't mind. I had stopped being nervous, and was now just silently cheering on the other candidates.

They both passed, did an excellent job— especially the bigger guy with the saber forms, he performed them beautifully, and I found myself thinking that he looked so much like he was dancing that Mom and Elaine probably loved watching him.

Then it was my turn. I started with my staff forms, did them in the order I'd been taught them— the first to show that you've mastered the staff itself, the second to show that you've integrated the staff with other techniques, made it a part of your kung fu.

I got great marks, well above the eight-point-eight needed to pass at this level. For the second staff form, I received straight nine-point-eights!

Then came the sword forms. Same deal— first one to show that you knew the sword, second one to show that you'd made a sword a part of your kung fu. On the first, a mix of nine-point-sevens and nine-point-eights.

On the second, the one I'd performed that afternoon to show Laurie, who'd actually talked about skipping her slumber party to come watch me test, I wowed everybody— even me!

I whirled through the form, the blade feeling like an extension of me, attacked, blocked, dodged, kicked, punched, virtually flew through the air on the aerial attacks, landed butterfly light when I hit the ground, until that last move— which I landed the way Sifu taught; hard!

I whirled up into the last kick, swept my sword around after it, twisted my body, and hit the mat with my left leg out, my foot flat and pointed forward, my right leg cocked at the knee, bent forward at the waist, left arm up and behind me, right arm and sword pointed straight at my Sifu, who sat in the middle of the judges.

The sound of me hitting the mat perfectly, both feet, my arm and my sword at the exact same moment, made a great big "THOOM!"— like in a martial arts movie.

For a long moment, there was silence— then Sifu said, "Stand."

I bounced to my feet, sword held up along my right arm, and waited for my marks.

"Sifu Hong?" Sifu Archer said.

"Ten."

My jaw dropped, and I hurried to close my mouth.

"Sifu Latimer?"

"Ten."

I started to wonder if this was a dream.

"Sifu Liu?"

"Ten."

"Sifu Wen?"

"Ten— and you need to send her to the Nationals."

I stood, tense as hell, loving those tens, but wanting one more, the one that would mean _everything,_ the one from the man who taught me that form— and who would never, _ever_ give me a perfect score I hadn't earned.

Sifu Archer smiled slowly and said, in that soft, penetrating voice of his, which somehow carried all over the gym, "Ten."

The hundred or so people watching immediately started clapping— then they stood, and gave me a freaking _standing ovation!_

For a long moment, I couldn't move— then I snapped out of it and bowed to the examiners before I allowed myself to relax a little and glance around.

Mom and Elaine were hugging each other and bouncing up and down like they were twelve year-olds at a Backstreet Boys concert. They stopped and waved and blew me kisses when they saw me looking.

Then I heard a shrill, piercing, warbling whistle, and glanced sideways at my little "fan club," saw the guy in the eyepatch take his fingers out of his mouth and start clapping. The others were clapping, too— but when they saw me looking, the little blond and the older guy _both_ bowed to me!

I bowed back, straightened, and waited to be told to kneel, or to sit down to wait for the results of my test, or have the other two join me— we all still had to do multi-person defense.

"Put away your sword and return to the mat," Sifu Archer said.

I did it, puzzled, and stood waiting.

They ran me through the techniques that Sifu had showed me Wednesday night, and I performed them as I'd been taught, glad I'd thought to practice them. I didn't think about why no one else was doing them— I concentrated on doing them right.

Then they had me do the open-hand forms he'd taught me, and I scored nothing lower than a nine-point-six, well above the minimum.

"Very good," Sifu said after I'd finished. "You may sit."

I sat, and I watched the multi-person defense tests of the other two, both of whom passed, though the guy from Peoria was flagging badly by the end of it.

"Rose Killian," Sifu Archer called, and I took my place at the middle of the mat.

"You know the rules, Rose," Sifu said. "You must fight for two minutes, no pads, only control of technique to protect you. If your name is called by any of the judges before the time is up, you have failed to block a blow judged to be deadly or incapacitating were it not pulled, and you will not pass the test.

"However, should you manage to put all three of your opponents out of the running before that time, you will automatically win. Opponents will be called out by the color of the safety vest they wear, red, blue and white.

"Rose, are you ready?"

"Yes, Sifu," I answered.

The two guys and one woman I'd be fighting, all red-and-blue sashes (at that level, you can "fight down" to another opponents level, if you are asked to— heck, it wasn't hard, I could do it, I was sure), surrounded me. I didn't know any of them— you never fought against people from your own school, so that no one could accuse anyone of taking it easy on a friend.

"Begin!"

I ate them alive. In just over a minute, I got a good (pulled!) kick across the head of the last of them, and heard Sifus Hong and Latimer both call, "White!"

I'd done it! I'd earned my red sash! The urge to shout was almost overpowering, but I fought it back, and moved to stand on the line before the judges, wondering what came next— I'd left right after I failed out of the open-hand form test the last time I'd tried, been too upset _not_ to leave.

"An excellent test, young lady," said Sifu Liu, and she gave me a big smile. "I have not seen all three opponents put down that swiftly since I was privileged to see your own Sifu test for his red sash, many years ago.

"Now… please return to the center of the mat."

I did, wondering what the hell was going on. I'd beaten the last part of the test, done stuff for techniques and forms that apparently weren't required by the other guys' sifus— so what was left?

Then I saw the two other guys coming onto the mat, one carrying a lightweight, padded staff, the other a padded bamboo rod the length of a sword… and the penny dropped.

This was the last part of the test for the red-and-blue sash! The extra techniques and forms— holy _crap!_

"The rules are the same as for multi-person defense," Sifu Archer called. "Save that you need only to last one minute, Rose, or put down both opponents. Also, you may not leave the mats.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sifu," I said.

"Begin!"

I dove over the staff that came at me immediately, rolled to my feet and kicked the swordsman in the gut, pulling it carefully, missing the center and "hitting" his side, then went under his counterstrike and back out of immediate range.

That was the longest minute of my life, up to that point. I didn't manage to get staff-guy out, but I did disarm-and-disable the swordsman, causing him to be called out with some fifteen seconds left in the test. Good thing, too— I was finally feeling all that exercise.

I had just gone under another swipe from the staff and dived sideways, away from the wielder's power, when Sifu Liu called, "Time!"

I stopped, shook the offered hand of the staff-guy, then turned my back on the crowd to breathe and adjust my clothing. When I turned back, Sifu Archer was sitting there in the middle of the other four judges, and beaming at me like… well, like my Daddy would have, if he'd been here.

I bowed to the five judges, and Sifu Archer said, "Sit, Rose— you've earned a break."

I sat on the chairs behind the judges, and the guy from Peoria— Dennis Preston, I had heard it called when he did his multi-person test— leaned over and whispered, "Lady, you're impressive— and I don't impress easy."

"Thanks," I said. "But you're no bad example, yourself— awesome spear forms, man."

"Stephen James Davis," Sifu Liu called. "Present yourself, please."

The third guy— eighteen or so, big, but not so big as to slow him down— stood in front of the judges, and Sifu Liu— his sifu, obviously— said, "Stephen, it is with great pleasure that I award you your red sash, in honor of your hard work and excellent testing.

"Congratulations!"

She then belted it on him herself, and when she stood, everyone applauded and cheered.

Sifu Hong presented David Wayne Preston with his sash, then Sifu Archer stood.

"Rose Erin Killian," he said. "Present yourself, please."

I hopped up, ran over, stood before the judges, and bowed.

"Rose, tonight you have caused the five of us to break with tradition," Sifu Archer said, grinning so widely that I figured it had to hurt. "For it is tradition to never test a candidate for promotion by more than one rank at a time.

"However, in the last three years, you have worked very, very hard— and you did not give up when you progressed more slowly than those around you. You worked harder, forced an uncooperative body to work as you needed it to, and you kept pushing, not quitting when it got hard, only pushing harder.

"The breakthrough that allowed all of your hard work to pay off at once is a rare and wonderful thing, though each of the sifus here has seen it before— and we feel it appropriate to acknowledge all of the work you went through both before and after that breakthrough.

"So it is my _immense_ pleasure to award you with your red-and-blue sash, and to add your name to the list of qualified instructors of the Tiger and Leopard School of kung fu for the State of Illinois!

"Congratulations… Sifu Killian!"

Then he knelt, removed my blue sash, and tied on the new red one with the blue stripe running through it's length down the middle.

When Sifu Archer stood, _he_ started the applause— and that was the greatest reward of all.

Then Mom was hugging me from one side, Elaine from the other, and everything got wonderfully blurry for a couple of minutes.

People were milling around when they let me go, waiting to congratulate me— but they waited a little longer, because Sifu hugged me as soon as Mom and Elaine stopped.

"I am so damned proud of you, Rose Killian," he said while he hugged me, "that I may just pop.

"So… was it a good surprise?"

"Yes, Sifu," I said, and bounced up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "And probably a good idea— I couldn't stress over a test I didn't know I was taking."

"That was the intent," he admitted. "Now— I'll let the others congratulate you."

Mom hugged me again, told me she was so proud of me that it just wasn't possible to say it, then kissed me on each cheek, and left— it was eight-twenty, the test had taken longer than I thought, what with the _extra sash-rank_ tossed in and all.

I got my hand shaken or a hug from damn near everyone from my school, and from each of the other sifus.

Then I got a big surprise.

Most everyone else had moved away, and I was left with Elaine and Sifu Archer, was starting to think about food, _serious_ thoughts about food, when a voice I didn't know came from my left, said, "Rose?"

I looked over, and it was the gorgeous girl from my "fan club"— tall (about five-eight), killer figure, long brown hair, big gray eyes and a kissable mouth— standing at the front of that little group.

"Hello…." I said, unsure of what to say. I didn't know her, did I?

"Hi," she said, offering me a hand. "I'm Dawn. You emailed me?"

"Holy— Dawn?" I laughed aloud, took her hand, shook it, and grinned. "Wow, when you said you guys might be coming sometime soon, I didn't expect you this soon!"

"Yeah, well… you know, there's plenty of people to take care of things back where we're staying, so we just— came." She smiled and said, "Let me make introductions.

"This is Xander Harris, big-brother-best-friend guy."

I shook the hand of the eyepatch wearer, and he said, "Excellent job out there— I wish I'd had a video camera, I could've made a fortune selling the tapes of your forms and fighting!"

"And this is Willow Rosenberg, she's the one who… um, sort of helped you?"

The girl in the fedora swept it off, revealing that dark red hair that told me it was her I'd seen in my vision the day I got the powers, and gave me a pixie-grin.

"Hi," she said. "Hey, I guess I do good work, huh?"

"Definitely," I answered. "And guys, you can all relax— Sifu Archer, here, knows what's up. Seems his kung fu style was founded by an ex-Watcher guy."

"Kun Lo Chang?" said the older man, and Sifu nodded. "Amazing! The Council has— had— no record of what happened to him after he resigned and left China."

"Oh, that make this easier, good," Dawn said. She indicated the man who'd just spoken and said, "This is Rupert Giles, the last full-fledged Watcher."

"Miss Killian, may I say I am very, very impressed?" Mr. Giles said, shaking my hand. "Your test was very well done— and that sword form deserved every ten you were awarded."

"Thank you," I said. "But call me Rose, please."

Then Dawn tugged forward the blond girl, who wasn't tiny, just… small. And slender. And cute as all get out.

"And this is my sister, Buffy Summers," Dawn said proudly. "The one the others call the 'Prime Slayer.' She hates that, but I think it's cute."

"Rose, you rocked out there," Buffy said, shaking my hand and grinning. "You impressed me, and you impressed Giles— and nothing impresses Giles."

"Thanks!" I said, grinning hugely. "It felt so good to be able to finally do it all, instead of flub it.

"Now, my turn.

"Dawn, Buffy, Willow, Xander, Mr. Giles, this is Sifu Camden Archer, who taught me everything you saw me do tonight, and never lost his patience with me, even when I was just totally unable to get it right."

Everyone shook Sifu's hand, and Giles said, "Just Giles, please, all of you."

"It's a British thing," Dawn explained.

"And this," I said, tugging Elaine forward, and popping up to kiss her cheek, "is the other half of the reason you all came out here to see what's what;

"Everyone, this is Elaine Marshall, dancer, Slayer— and the love of my life."

You know, nobody freaked at that last bit? Heck, only Giles reacted at all, and that was just a sort of "huh" blink. The others just… took it in stride, and shook her hand, said hello.

"So," Buffy said, after the introductions were done. "I saw the lady who's either your mom or your older sister take off— she looked dressed for a night out, I'm guessing parental party?" I nodded, and Buffy continued. "So I was thinking… we've got a lot to talk about, all of us, and what you did definitely deserves a party. Can we buy you guys dinner? All three of you?"

I looked at Elaine, got an enthusiastic nod, and resigned myself to no love-making tonight— but I understood, I was curious, too.

"We're in," I said. "Sifu?"

"Unfortunately, I can't," he said. "I'm buying dinner for the other judges— they came to help, after all, the least I can do is buy them dinner."

So I went to shower in the familiar locker rooms, changed to civvies, and came out to find everyone waiting in the parking lot around a rented minivan.

"So, where should we go?" Buffy asked. "Someplace open late would be good, and Giles, Xander and Willow might want a drink. Any ideas?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but a cold, hateful growl of a voice spoke before I could say a word.

"I think you have a table waiting for you in Hell, Slayer!"

I spun around to see four vampires standing there behind us, all in the bumpy-face thing.

Great. Just great!


	13. Chapter 13

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 13

_Elaine:_

Wow. Buffy wasn't a bubble-bodied-brainless-twit— good deal!

I felt inclined to like all of these people— they'd all been hugely complimentary of Rose— who deserved it!— and no one had freaked when Rose introduced me as the "love of [her] life" (for which she was getting very, very pleasured, sometime soon).

And Dawn… holy hotness, Batman! The girl was just plain killer gorgeous. (Not like I'd have kicked Buffy or Willow out of bed or anything, but Dawn… wow!)

After Rose went to shower, they led me out to the parking lot, Dawn already comfortable enough to tug me by the hand— and I knew, right then, that we'd be friends, me, her and Rose. Something about Dawn just… bubbled. Not in a dippy way, in a happy way.

"So, have you studied martial arts, Elaine?" Giles asked as we went out to the parking lot and the minivan Xander pointed at.

"No, not yet, sir," I said. "I've made arrangements to take kyokushinkai karate, I'll probably start next week, after school lets out. Right now, I'm just a dancer. But I did okay that first night, when these two vampires attacked me and Rose."

"Makes sense," Buffy said. "Dancing and martial arts have some things in common, even some moves in common. And the Slayer power comes with some instincts, that'd help you figure out what would work.

"Still— I'm glad you've decided to take martial arts already. Good idea. And hey— Rose could teach you, now, if the karate doesn't work out. Stick with that if it does work out, though— variety is a good thing."

"That's what I thought, too," I said. "Sifu Archer said he'd teach me for free, but I thought we should do different styles, me and Rose. So he got a friend of his over and he agreed to teach me karate.

"And you know, there's another big weird, there. Sensei Yashida had an ancestor— back in the 1500s, I think he said— who was a Slayer, and his family still reveres her memory."

"Oh, dear," Giles said. He took off his glasses and polished them. "Dawn, you did the right thing, bringing this to our attention— the coincidences are piling up too fast. And I'm glad that your friend— no, Rose's friend— found the site, and the two of you were wise enough to let us know what's going on."

I think I glowed a little bit, then— Giles was one of those guys who could do that, make you feel bright and special with just a few words— probably a good thing in a Watcher.

"So, can you think of anything supernatural-weird-like that might be needing two Slayers to clean it up?" Buffy asked. "Or even just normal-weird? Or creepy?"

"Um, no, not really," I said. "We had a serial killer for a while, back in the late nineties, I think— I was about ten— and he was never caught, but that's the last weird I know about, before the vampires the day we got Slayer-ized."

" 'Slayer-ized,' " Buffy said, and laughed. "I like that.

"So… remember anything about your serial killer at all? Or were you too young?"

"No, I remember," I said, shivering. Even five years later, the guy could creep me out. "They called him 'the Horseman,' because he left all his victims headless. And he cut them off, really… you know, close to the shoulders, then threw the bodies in water."

"Ugh," Dawn said. "Major grotesque."

"Yes, but not too weird, for serial killer types," Buffy said. She shook her head, and Dawn spoke again.

"Wait a second, Buffy," Dawn said, frowning a little. "Why would you cut off the head really close to the shoulders? More work, right? And then dispose of the bodies in water— Elaine, do you remember if it was running water?"

"I think so, yeah," I said. "Yeah, three or four in the Mackinaw River, one in Sugar Creek, and a couple in the Illinois river."

"Vampire," Dawn said. She shuddered, but continued quickly. "Cut the heads off below the bite mark, toss the bodies in running water to explain the bloodless corpse and no blood in the water."

"Hmm," Buffy said. She nodded, looked at Dawn and said, "You're getting good at this, Dawn. Makes sense to me. Giles?"

"Eminently logical," Giles said, and smiled at Dawn, who puffed up and glowed like I had a couple minutes before. "Well done, Dawn. And perhaps crucial."

"I can research it tomorrow, thanks to the cellular modem on the laptop you got me," Dawn offered.

"Do so, please," Giles said. "And let us know what you find."

"Did you know anybody who was killed, Elaine?" Xander asked, leaning against the van and looking thoughtful.

"No, I don't think so," I said. "Mom and dad were upset, of course, serial killer in town— but never personally upset, you know? So I don't think they knew anybody, even."

"We'll have to ask Rose, later," Xander said. "Could be a connection there, like somebody saw something coming, but not what— visions work that way, and divinations, right Giles?"

"Yes, quite right, Xander," Giles said. "Magical divination is sometimes very sharp, but usually rather… broad. General."

Buffy turned to Willow, then. "Wil, you get anything off of this place at all? The town, I mean?"

"No, but I haven't been looking, either," Willow said. She looked thoughtful, then added, "Of course, I didn't have to look, not with Sunnydale, but… hello, Hellmouth? Kinda big and searchlight-y.

"So at least no Hellmouth here. That's a good thing, right?"

"That's beyond a 'good thing,' and into the realm of 'thank you god for this way-beyond-good-thing,' Wil," Buffy said. "So what would it take for you to go looking for it?"

"Well, with Kennedy not here, I'd need someone else for an anchor," Willow said. "Any of you would do, but you'd be best, Buffy— Slayer power and I are kinda best buds, now, and the extra power gives me an extra anchor. And I'd need some peace and quiet. That's all."

"Okay, we'll look at the hotel," Buffy said. "And you know, I hope we don't find anything— or maybe I hope that we do. I mean— Normal. I could live in a place called Normal, I could! I'd like to. And there's a college right here—"

"Three colleges," I interrupted. "Two in Normal, one in Bloomington. Oh, and a community college."

"Okay, so lots of opportunity for further education for Dawn, later," Buffy said, looking at Giles. "Or for me, now that I maybe don't have to carry the weight of the whole world on my shoulders anymore.

"So… moving here, that has appeal. And we need to have a presence in a place where there's two Slayers from the start anyway, right, guys?"

"Nice sales pitch, Buff," Xander said. "But you can stop selling. I don't care where we live, so long as there's no Hellmouth, there's no law against a one-eyed man driving, and we all stick together. Oh— and weather would be nice. Not-California weather, I mean."

"Where Kennedy is, that's home," Willow said. "And she'd like it here. I think I do, already. It feels all normal. Which, okay, bad pun, but not on purpose."

"I like it here," Dawn said. She beamed at me. "I got a couple friends already, the town's not bleeding vampires, and Buffy's right— the appeal of a town called Normal? Too much to pass up."

"I see," Giles said. He looked amused, and somehow… affectionate. Like all of them ganging up on him was something he'd grown used to over the years, and actually liked. "Well, I've certainly no outstanding objection on first look at the place. And the Powers That Be putting two Slayers here from the start would seem to be an indication, though of what I don't know.

"I shall certainly consider your thoughts on the matter, and I shall keep a weather eye out for a suitable place to set up housekeeping while we are here."

That seemed to satisfy everyone, and they all sort of… relaxed. Nobody said anything, but it wasn't the kind of silence that was bad or uncomfortable, just really relaxed and casual. Dawn came over and leaned against the van next to me, and said, "Dancer, huh? I used to take lessons, before my Mom died. What sort of dancing do you take?"

"I'm sorry about your mom," I said, and squeezed her hand. She gave me a smile that said a visible 'thank you,' and assured me that it was all right, it had been a while, all at the same time. "The dance lessons I get are what my teacher calls 'freestyle.' She teaches all sorts of moves, then teaches us to put them together in ways that let us dance how we want, and still look good doing it."

"Ooo, I wanna go to your school," Dawn said immediately. She glanced at the gym and said, "Oh, here comes Rose."

Rose joined us, still looking happily stunned over getting her Sifu's rating, and Buffy asked where we should go to eat.

Which is when four vampires appeared from the far side of the van, in full vampire-face, and one said, "I think you have a table waiting for you in Hell, Slayer!"

"_Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze!_" Rose said in a pissed-sounding voice— or something like that, I figured it (rightly) for Chinese and not exactly complimentary. (I was right. I found out later that it means "Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey!" Chinese must be really good for insults!)

"Okay," Buffy said, with a sigh. "Let's just get th—"

"No," Rose said, reaching into her sports bag. "Buffy… you're in our town. You guys are our guests, technically. And my Daddy always said you should never let a guest do the nasty jobs, even if they really want to help." Rose dropped her staff and shrugged, sending her bag off of her shoulder and to the ground, leaving her with her sword in her hand. "These guys belong to me and Elaine. We can handle it."

I pulled a stake out of my purse, tossed the purse back to Dawn. I was nowhere near as confident as Rose, but after what I'd seen earlier, I knew she could take up my slack.

"Okay," Buffy said, raising her hands and stepping back (and all the while grinning her approval). "It's your town. But if you guys get in trouble, I'm wading in."

"That's fair," Rose said.

"Excuse me?" the lead vampire said. "Vampires, here? And you're just little girls— especially little in your case, red."

"Wrong answer," I said. "We're Slayers— and she's a kung fu instructor."

"Shyeah," the vampire said, rolling his eyes. "The whole 'all Slayers everywhere activated' thing, I heard about that. It's pure bullsh—"

From my right came a flash of silver, and the vampire's head rolled from his shoulders, didn't quite hit the pavement before it— and he— exploded into a puff of dust.

"Watch your mouth," Rose said primly— and moved at the one farthest to our right.

The one on my extreme left just stood there, staring in shock, so I went after him first. I took a long slide-step, putting me actually past the staring one, pirouetted neatly behind him, and staked him from behind. He dusted, and I felt like a million bucks, knowing I'd done it right for Buffy to see.

The one next to him, who'd been watching Rose fight the one on the right, spun around at the sound of his buddy dusting, and his fist came around and cracked me across the jaw. I spun away from him, wincing— it hadn't broken anything, or even loosened teeth, but it hurt— and kept on spinning, turn-stepping away from and around him. I could see Rose fighting the other one— only it was more like playing with him. He kept swinging and kicking, and she kept dodging and blocking like he just didn't matter, firing off kicks of her own here and there, staggering the vampire around some, but never quite getting the opening she wanted to behead him.

Me, I was in heavy-dodge mode. This second vampire I was fighting was a way better fighter than me, and smarter than the other one— he was trying to wear me down by never giving me an opening.

Then Rose called "Elaine— square dance!"

Now, let me make plain here that I do _not_ square dance. _Ever!_ It's for frontier communities, a way to meet people and inspire a sense of community, a great thing for those, maybe, but it's _not_ for me.

Still, I got it. Square dances are the one kind of dancing where you switch partners more than in any other dance that isn't professional and choreographed.

Rose kicked her vampire in the jaw, a vicious kind of kick where she let him get close, pulled her leg up to her own chest, then thrust it _straight up_ and into the bottom of his chin. He staggered back away from her, at an angle that sent him not too far from me, and I spun around mine, did a _grand jeté en tournant _(big jump while turning, remember) that ended with me kicking him across the back of the head, and sent him staggering in the general direction of Rose.

A couple of hip-hop jump-steps brought me to the side of Rose's former target, and he didn't have time to adjust his thinking from "kung fu Slayer" to "crazy dance Slayer" before I started a pirouette. He moved instinctively as I spun— and walked right into my stake, because I'd pirouetted in place, not moving. He'd not understood that, and hadn't been ready for the stake.

I turned to see Rose put the finish on the last of them, ending the fight just like she'd ended her perfect-score sword form— a great big aerial, spinning kick, her right foot crashing across my former dance partner's jaw, and her sword coming down on the same path, biting into his neck, taking his head off and dusting him even as Rose went to the ground in that sexy-menacing-catlike pose, her sword pointed right at me.

"Damn, they're good," I heard Xander say— but I wasn't paying a lot of attention, because Rose had bounced to her feet, come over to me, put her left arm around my neck and kissed me— hard and eager, crazy-making and sexy.

I know other things were said— complimentary things, I'm sure— but I didn't hear them, not really. I was busy giving as good as I got in the kissing department.

Finally we broke, and Willow said, "Aw, that's so _cute!"_

Dawn giggled then, and said something that became a nickname for Rose and I among… well, all the Slayer types, eventually.

"Check out the Chosen Couple," Dawn said. "That's just sweet."

"Yeah, it is," Buffy agreed. "Rose, Elaine— you did great."

"Yes," Giles agreed. "An excellent job, ladies— and I say that as a Watcher who has seen the very best in action on countless occasions."

"Ooo, flattery," Buffy said. "Cookies for you, Giles, as soon as I have an oven to bake them in."

"Thanks, Buffy, thanks, Giles," Rose said, breathing a little hard after that kiss. "I'm glad we did it right."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, keeping an arm around Rose's waist. "That was… I didn't even have time to be scared, this time."

"Really?" Xander said, grinning. "That's never been a problem for me— I can _always_ find time to be scared. And I always do."

"Says the guy who's saved my life on more than one occasion," Buffy said. "And who wades right in, and never mind his lack of super-powers."

"Oh, sure, I wade right in," Xander said. "But that's mostly because the kind of things I end up fighting when I'm with you are gonna catch me if I run anyway. Why give 'em the back shot?"

Rose slipped out of my arms to get her bag and put away her sword, then came back and slid under my arm again.

"Okay," she said. "Now— about that food? I'm starving!"

We all laughed, piled in the van, and headed for Applebee's.

_Rose:_

Wow. Just… wow!

I got straight tens for scores on my favorite kung fu form ever.

I got my Sifu rating, totally by surprise.

I got to meet Dawn and company, including the Prime Slayer (so odd, her being little and cute— I was expecting a big sexy valkyrie type), got complimented by her and her Watcher, and found myself liking all these people.

Then I got to kill vampires with Elaine's help in front of the Prime Slayer— and we did it _right!_

That night just rocked.

We got to Applebee's (one of my favorite chain restaurants), got a table, and Giles said, "Rose, Elaine, I am familiar with the appetites of Slayers. I am also familiar with martial arts testing, and know that Rose probably ate both early and lightly to avoid stomach difficulties, and Elaine, I'd imagine that you did the same, out of politeness if nothing else.

"So let me assure you; as the last remaining Watcher, having already contacted the bankers who handle our accounts and established my bona fides as such, I have access to and control of sums of money that are… staggering. So I fully expect to two of you to order whatever you want, and in whatever quantities it takes to satisfy you. You cannot shock or upset me by, say, ordering two full dinners each— I had to feed over a dozen Slayers immediately after a rather nasty battle quite recently.

"As the only Watcher remaining, I default to being _your_ Watcher— and as such, I am telling you to eat well, eat until you've had enough, and not worry about a budget."

"All that, and you could've just said, 'I'm rich, pig out, I'm used to it,' Giles," Buffy said, shaking her head in mock sadness.

"Yes, well, I prefer to be precise," Giles said.

"And you like to hear yourself talk," Buffy said, grinning. "Which is cool— I like to hear you talk, too."

I ordered the biggest rib dinner they made, and a boneless buffalo wing appetizer, but stuck to water to drink. After I'd put that away, I still felt like I could eat a horse, so I ordered a big chicken chef salad. That filled me the rest of the way, and I felt like I could pay attention to talking, then.

The others— Xander called them (himself included) "the Scooby Gang," which gave me giggle fits— all seemed to understand about my hunger, and Elaine's lesser-but-still-definite need for food. No one tried any serious conversation until we'd both refused dessert.

"Okay," I said, leaning back and sighing contentedly. "I'm actually full. Giles, thank you very much."

"Yes, thanks a lot," Elaine said. "I didn't realize how hungry I was until we walked in here and the smells hit me."

"That's quite all right, you're perfectly welcome," Giles said. "So… Rose, Elaine… what are your plans, now that you've got the Slayer power?"

I looked at him blankly for a moment, then snorted and said, "Well, I was sort of figuring on beating up any nasty monsters that might come around and start hurting people. That's what this is for, to help people, so that's what I'm— _we're_— going to use it for."

"Yes," Elaine said, taking my hand. "That's what Rose's father told her it's for, and that's what we're going to do with it. But… help would be welcome. Advice. Training. Information."

"You'll have all three," Giles said. He looked at Rose and said, "Your father said that this was for helping people, Rose? How did he know? Or was he guessing?"

"I don't think he was guessing," I said slowly. "He knew things… things he couldn't have guessed. As to how he knew… um, that's— you may not believe me, I don't think."

"You'd be surprised what we'll believe, Rose," Buffy said, seeming to know I was… well, sort of upset. "Remember, we believe weird things for a living."

"I think he knew because…." I rooted around in my head for a bible verse I'd learned, way back when, in the days I still went to church. " 'For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.'

"My Daddy always said that was about seeing only parts of a picture while we're alive, but how, after we die, we can see the whole picture. He meant a picture of God and heaven, but… well, now he knows. Now he sees. And I think that's how he knew— he can see the whole picture."

"Oh, Rose," Buffy said, even as Dawn, sitting on my other side from Elaine, grabbed my hand— the one Elaine wasn't holding— and squeezed. "I'm sorry. My Mom and Dawn's died a couple of years ago, so… well, we do know how you feel. And if you don't want to talk about it, we'll drop it."

"No, it's okay," I said, squeezing Dawn's hand back. "See, Daddy died five years back. He was a fireman, and he went into a burning apartment building— an old one, like a brownstone— after this little six year-old boy who was in the basement of the building. The boy had been trying to get out a cat that had kittens in the basement, never realized that she and the babies were already out of there, and he got scared and couldn't get out. Daddy… he heard the kid shouting for help, and he went down after him. He got the boy out, shoved him out this little door-thing they used to send coal down through for the furnace, and… and then the building came down, and he didn't have time to get out, and… look, he died a _hero,_ and I love him and miss him, but I'm so proud of him that there just isn't any way to tell you about it right, and now I have a chance to do things that will make _him_ proud of _me._ And I _know_ he's watching, _know_ he can see me, because he came back to tell me what was happening, to help me get past being scared and get on with doing what needs done— so I'm going to do what needs done, and I'm going to do it _right_.

"Right now, that means telling you everything he said to me as well as I can remember it. So I'm going to."

"Your father… he came back to tell you what was happening?" Giles said.

"Some of it, yes," I said. I took a drink, tried to stall a little to get my slightly teary voice back under control. "He wasn't really exact. Give me a second…."

No one spoke, they just let me concentrate. After a moment, I started speaking, letting my memory— always good, and super-sharp when it came to all things to do with my Daddy— pull the words out of me.

" 'You've been given a gift by… someone,' " I said, my voice picking up Daddy's semi-lilt, the rhythms of his speech. " 'The Powers That Be, let's call them. A gift of strength, speed and toughness. Yes, all right— a sudden change, and not knowing why it happened… I guess that is a little scary.

" 'But that's a temporary thing, that scared, Rose. You'll get over it— I think you're mostly over it already, an' the truth be known— and you'll realize that it isn't a bad thing. So once you've made that leap… what are you going to do, Rose Erin?'

"Then I said— I thought of how Daddy died. How I was talking to him in the cemetery instead of at his firehouse or our old house because he used what he could do to save a life. And I said it must be to help people, and Daddy… he said, 'Tell the truth an' shame the Devil. I know that's what it's for, my Emerald Rose. That's all it's for. To help people, Rose. Nothing else.

" 'Listen now, girl o' mine; the world is a more strange an' wondrous place than you've believed. Some of those strange and wondrous things… they're a bit more on the line of strange and frightening, Rose. And you've been given the power to help people against the frightening things, dear one.

" 'It makes me more proud than any words could ever say that you thought of that yourself, Rose. And it makes me sad to say that there are some who've been given this power who don't care about helping people— and at least one who'll actively disdainful of it.

" 'So you remember three things, Rose; remember that this power is for the good. Remember that no matter how frightening things get, you won't be alone, not after tonight. And remember, darling daughter o' mine, that I love you more than anything so small as dying could ever change… and I'm as proud of you as you were of me!'

"Then… I sat and I cried for a couple of minutes, and someone sat down and asked me if I was all right, and that was Elaine— and now I am all right, and then some."

The Scooby Gang was staring at me— and so was Elaine. I hadn't told her that Daddy had told me I wouldn't be alone before, and I could see that she was shocked, but in a good way.

"The Powers That Be," Buffy said, putting the capitals on it like I had. "Giles… Rose was still in the gym when you used that phrase tonight."

"Yes, she was," Giles said. "And… we know that ghosts can come back, can give warnings and aid.

"Rose's father warned her of one Slayer who would be disdainful of using her power to help people… I wonder if that's why she and Elaine were both here, why the Powers That Be arranged it so…."

"If we're here to put Disdainful Lass down, then we will," Elaine said. "But… really, how much damage could one bad Slayer do?"

"A lot," Buffy, Dawn, Willow and Xander chorused, while Giles said, "Quite a bit, actually."

They told us about Faith, the Slayer who'd gone bad for a while, and that was… sobering.

"Okay, then, Elaine and I will just have to train hard," I said. "I'm up for that."

"Me, too," Elaine said.

"Yes, I trust that you will," Giles said. "All right… well. Buffy, I think you'll be getting your wish. We can't stay more than a week right this instant— I'm loathe to leave Andrew in charge that long, truth be told— but that should be long enough to shop for a place to live.

"I believe we'll be setting up shop here."

I liked the sound of that, and so did Elaine.


	14. Chapter 14

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 14

_Elaine:_

The Powers That Be arranged for Rose and I to meet.

That told me that I was right, that she and I were _meant_ to be together— and that filled me with a sort of joy that left me wanting to take Rose back to my house, say to hell with my promise to my folks not to have any overnight guests, and make love to her until we just couldn't stay awake any longer, then go to sleep wrapped around her, and with her wrapped around me.

But I "stayed good." I just squeezed her hand harder than I had been for a moment, and kissed her briefly when she looked at me.

We sat and talked a little longer, but it was almost eleven by then, and I could see that Rose was really dragging— not that I blamed her, I was tired, too, and I hadn't had that sash-test she'd had.

Giles saw it too, and asked for the check. He then took us home, even let me get out and kiss Rose goodnight properly at the foot of her sidewalk before taking me home.

We'd arranged to all meet at Sifu Archer's school in the morning, and go somewhere to talk and… well, Giles wanted to start teaching Rose and I to use a stake properly, and Buffy wanted to spar with Rose (Oh, how I wanted to see that!), and we basically wanted to get on with getting to know each other.

I went inside, read a few pages of Stardance (my all-time favorite book, I re-read it every six or eight months), and went to sleep.

I woke up at six— wow, I'd slept in!— danced, ate, and went to catch a bus downtown. When I got on the eight-fifty Red B at Washington and Moore, I felt no surprise at all to see Rose already on the bus, just grinned and sat with her.

"Morning, Sifu Killian," I said, and kissed her briefly.

"Good morning, grasshopper," Rose said gravely— then laughed.

"Your Mom still all happy?" I asked.

"Yeah, she was telling Jerry about it all through breakfast," Rose said. "He was nice about it, let her talk— but I don't think he was really paying attention."

"Coolness," I said. "So… is it just me, or is Dawn Summers a serious hottie?"

"Oh, damn, it's not just you," Rose said. She grinned at me wickedly, and said, "She made me think of our little agreement a lot sooner than I expected I would."

"Me, too," I said. "Gorgeous. And sweet. I wonder if she likes girls?"

"You have my permission to seduce her," Rose said in my ear, "but only if you promise to try and convince her a threesome with all of us would be better— and I'll promise the same thing."

I laughed, poked her in the ribs and jokingly said, "Tart!"

"Your tart, though," Rose said— and kissed me.

"So… what do you think of the rest of them?" I asked.

"Buffy… not what you'd expect from the name," Rose said. "And I like that she let us take out the vamps last night. Willow… fun, funny, cute— hard to believe she's an über-powerful witch. Xander… yeah, he's cool. Funny, but smarter than he lets on, I think. And Giles… yow. He feels like… a little like Sifu, and a little like Daddy."

I agreed with her on all points, even though I still had my Dad and didn't have a Sifu— but he did sort of feel like Camden, nice and attentive and teacher-ish.

We got off the bus, saw the Scooby Gang's minivan parked in front of Sifu's Archer's school when we got there, and the five of them inside talking to Sifu Archer while a bunch of students sparred on the mat under the watchful eye of Sam Hollister, the nice young man who had been saving seats for the families of those up for promotion the night before.

We strolled in— and Sam Hollister called "Stop! Face the door."

The nine students there turned to face the door, and Sam said, "Good morning, Sifu Killian!"— and he and the other nine all bowed to Rose.

She blushed, bowed back, then turned and bowed to Sifu Archer. When she straightened, the nine students and Sam all applauded until Rose raised her hands and said, "Enough, please— I'll blush to death!"

As soon as we got over by Sifu's desk, he looked at Rose and said, "Have you given thought to your next weapon, Rose?"

"Spear," Rose said immediately.

"That would be a yes, then," Sifu Archer said. "Any particular reason, Rose?"

"Yes, Sifu," Rose said, keeping her voice low. "Lose the metal tip, sharpen the wood at one end, and oh, look! It's a really long stake…!"

"Okay, we're keeping her," Buffy said. "She thinks like a Slayer already."

"Quite," Giles said, giving Rose a nod. "I do approve.

"Good morning, ladies. How are you today?"

"Rested, ready, willing and able," Rose said. "Elaine?"

"What she said," I agreed. "I'm ready to start learning whatever you guys want to teach me."

"Excellent," Xander said. "I'm ready to watch you guys learn."

"Camden has suggested that the lot of us go to Fairview Park, as we'll be able to work without interruption or causing undue comment back in the— the northwest corner of the park, wasn't it?" Giles said.

"Yes, that was it," Sifu Archer said. "Rose knows where I mean, I'm sure."

"I do," Rose said.

"Then let's go, shall we?" Giles said. "I'm sure you ladies have parents who want you at home at least part of the day."

"I promised Mom I'd be home by five-thirty for supper," Rose said. "And a few minutes before that would be good— I told her I had some new friends, and she wants to meet everyone, scope you out, give you the parental once-over."

"I should go home, then, too," I said. "Finals Monday, I should study."

"Your parents?" Giles said. "Do they know where you are, Elaine?"

"They're in Orlando, Giles," I said. "Until tomorrow night."

"All right, then," Giles said. "Willow, Dawn, you're sure you can take care of the things you need to do?"

"Sure thing," Willow said. "With the cellular modems we've got, we'll be all right."

"Yeah, and I'll bet Rose or Elaine can tell me the local paper's website, so I can start researching," Dawn said.

"Pantagraph-dot-com," Rose and I said in unison.

We drove to Fairview Park, Rose giving Giles directions, went way back into the northwest corner— and we had so much fun that I almost hate to call it a training session.

Giles and Buffy taught me and Rose a bunch of little tricks for using a stake effectively, some of them relying on Slayer-ness, not something a normal person could do. When Rose mentioned that I'd staked my first vampire from range with a thrown tree branch, Giles immediately started working with me on throwing a stake accurately, while Rose and Buffy worked on more up-close and personal attacks.

Xander walked around and watched, and kibitzed— and sometimes even offered helpful advice. Despite his self-deprecating remarks and his lack of any weird powers, he'd spent so much time helping Buffy that he really knew what needed doing, even if he couldn't do it himself.

Just before lunch Giles and I took a break, and Xander, Willow and Dawn joined us— as we watched Buffy and Rose spar for twenty minutes.

I had never, ever in my life seen anything that monstrously scary-neat. It was better than any chop-socky movie, even the incredibly cool Bulletproof Monk that I'd seen with Dad (a big fan of martial arts movies, my Dad) the month before, and that had been a rocket ride of martial arts niftiness.

No pads. No protective gear at all. Just Rose and Buffy, both in sweats and T-shirts, Rose barefoot, Buffy in deck shoes.

They started slow, and Dawn and I looked at each other after a couple of minutes and she said, "They'd be awesome dancers," to which I nodded.

They got used to each other a couple of minutes after that, and upped the ante some. They started moving faster, coming closer to hitting each other, getting more daring and elaborate with their attacks. Then Buffy hit Rose, an obviously-pulled backhand to the ribs. Rose looked surprised for a second— then she grinned— a feral, wild thing— and opened up.

They hit each other a lot after that— contact-hit, I mean, not hurt-hit— and they both just… let go. Stopped worrying about hurting each other, started thinking about winning their little match.

Buffy got the best of it, of course. My Rose was good, very good, and she got some solid hits in on Buffy, each one acknowledged with a grin and a nod— but Buffy had been fighting for her life and the lives of others for eight years, and she was just… the best. Rose ended up doing the grin-and-nod acknowledgement of a blow a _lot_ more— but all of us could see that she was loving every minute of it.

It ended when Buffy fired off a series of rapid-fire punches, that Rose spun away from, then spun back in faster, kicking furiously and rapidly, firing off shots at Buffy's head and chest, and landed a good, solid kick in Buffy's gut— even as Buffy's identical kick caught Rose in the gut. The force of the blows sent them staggering apart— both laughing like loons. Then Rose threw her hands up to indicate "I'm done"— and hugged Buffy hard, got hugged back just as hard.

While they recovered, Willow and I went to the KFC just down the street and got a great big meal for all of us, which we demolished. When it was done, all that was left was one lonely chicken wing and three or four bites of coleslaw.

Then we got a surprise.

"Well," Giles said, a little awkwardly. "I think we'll take a bit of a break. I need to look over the results of the house-hunting Willow has done, and some research of Dawn's. We shouldn't work too hard right after lunch either. So, ah, Willow is going to give you two a ride to Elaine's house, let you… rest. She'll pick you up again at two-thirty, and we'll resume our lessons."

Rose and I looked at each other, then back at Giles— who was blushing a bit.

"Come on, girls," Willow said. "You need some alone time. Witchy-prescription thing."

We let Willow drag us off, and drive us home. On the way, she saw us sneaking looks at her and chuckled.

"Relax, okay?" she said. "You guys have all the signs of people in love, and I'd bet my last sacred circle that you've made love. Me and Dawnie worked it out— you two can't have had a lot of time be alone together, so… we're making time for you. Giles may not act like it, but he's cool with it, he understands.

"I just wish Kennedy was here— I'd take her back to our hotel for the time between now and picking you up."

"Kennedy's a her?" Rose said, surprised. "I mean— not a standard girl's name."

"Oh, she's very much a her," Willow said, grinning at us in the rearview mirror. "I'm gay."

"Explains why everybody took it so well," Rose said. "Or at least why nobody reacted. I guess taking it well's more about who you are and how you were raised. But immediate reactions, being your friend had to help that."

"Could be," Willow said. "Okay, how far to Grove Street, now?"

She got us to my house, said she'd be back at two-thirty sharp, and waved as she pulled off.

I half-dragged Rose inside, stripped her between my bedroom door and my bed, let her strip me beside the bed, and then we got nuts for a while.

When we finally wound down, we showered briefly (no sense in doing more than washing off the layers of sticky, since Rose didn't have anything to change into), got dressed, and were on the curb when Willow pulled up, grinned at us, and said, "You guys look indecently happy."

"We are," I said.

"Good," Willow said. "I'm glad this helped you relax."

When we got back to the park, Giles was teaching Dawn to use a staff, each one using a heavily padded weapon. Dawn looked graceful as all hell, but was obviously not familiar with the weapon, and didn't seem terribly comfortable with it.

Rose wandered over to where they were working when we got out, watched for a moment, then looked at me and said, "Want to learn to use a staff, Elaine?"

"Would you recommend it?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Rose said. "Great defensive weapon, and useful in a jillion other ways. Also? You can't kill a vampire with a staff, maybe, but you can beat him down to stupid with one. And if you sharpen one end, it's a spear, now. And like I said earlier— that's a really long stake."

"Then yes, please," I said.

"Giles?" Rose called. "You've been working a while, right? Let me take a stab at it? If Dawn's willing? And Elaine, too."

"All right, yes," Giles said. "Dawn?"

"Sure thing," she said.

Rose got her own staff out of the van— she'd brought it and her sword with, this morning, the sword in her sports bag— and Giles gave me his.

"Lose the padding," Rose said, and Dawn and I started attacking the string that held the padding on the staves. Once we had them padding-free, Rose said, "Okay, look— there's a lot to be said for what Giles was teaching you to do, Dawn, but there's different ways of using a staff— you saw my forms last night.

"Giles uses a staff European style, which, like I said, has its strengths; two attacking surfaces, easy to block with, a little faster— if you're used to it.

"But the way I use one… well, a European style staff user can't reach me. I can keep him off, keep him back, and if he makes a mistake and over-swings, I can hit him without coming in close enough for him to hit me.

"So… grab the staff a hand-and-a-half from one end with your off-hand, and put your smart hand on it out far enough that when you stand relaxed, your arms are not quite touching your sides, but the grip isn't wide enough to be awkward. Yes, good. Okay, now, separate yourselves— each of you take one big step away from the other. Good— long legs on both of you make one step enough.

"All right, these are the eight basic movements for a staff…."

By three-thirty, Dawn and I were both able to do the first staff form Rose had done the night before. Not as fast, not as powerfully, and not anything like as gracefully— but we could do it.

Giles sat at the picnic table with Buffy and stared at us, and at Rose as she worked with us, a look of happy amazement on his face.

"She's a prize, Rose is," Buffy said. "Elaine, too— the grace she's got, the way she improvises so well… they'll be able to help us teach the others, won't they?"

"Quite certainly," Giles said. "I am very glad that they emailed Dawn, and that she brought this to our attention."

I blushed and kept moving, smiling at the idea of being able to help teach others like us.

_Rose:_

Let me state for the record, right here and now:

I'm _good_. Buffy's _MUCH_ better!

When we sparred, she took it easy on me— I could tell she was holding back, so that we'd both enjoy it more— and even taking it easy on me, she pretty much beat me easily.

Still, lots of fun, and I learned things. Then we had a good lunch— then Willow took me and Elaine to Elaine's house for a while so we could get sexy.

Yeah. Willow and Dawn had put their heads together, figured out that, while we were lovers, we hadn't had a lot of time for loving— and they, or maybe all four younger people, talked Giles into giving us some time to be alone and get sexy— which we very much did.

Then we went back, and I taught Dawn and Elaine some staff stuff. Then Buffy decided we'd worked hard enough for a bit and said, "Hey, Elaine— Dawn used to take dance lessons, and she's still a good dancer. Show us some dancing? Dawn, you, too."

Elaine blushed— but I gave her a hopeful look, her and Dawn both, and they agreed.

Dawn hunted through her CDs until she found something both she and Elaine knew and had danced to, and put it in the minivan's CD player. To my surprise, what came out was Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation— not something I'd have expected them to dance to.

But, oh, was it fun to watch. They didn't do the dance that had been in the video, though it did resemble it a little here and there— they did their dance, and it was neat as hell to watch.

They treated it like a game of follow the leader, sort of. Dawn started out "leading," with Elaine copying her moves, picking up her rhythms and ideas, and going with that. Then all the sudden, they switched, and Dawn was following Elaine, adapting to Elaine's style and moves.

And for the last third of the song— almost two minutes— they just danced together, merging their styles, and working off of each other.

They finished, and went right into the next song, some old thing called Gonna Make You Sweat— and they just stayed together on it, working by that weird sort of telepathy you sometimes get from artistic people, where they work together without any rehearsal, and it comes out perfect.

"Buffy…." Giles started.

"Giles, if you're about to tell me that I have been drastically underestimating Dawn and the things she could almost certainly learn, don't bother— I just figured it out on my own." Buffy shook her head, sighed and said, "Damn. I can't dance that well."

"Buff, I don't want to try and out-perform your idea of what Dawn can do— and Elaine, for that matter," Xander said, grinning hugely my way, "but I've seen rock videos where the professional dancers weren't this good."

"Oh, yeah," Willow said. "This is— when did she learn that!"

"Pretty much between kindergarten and the time Mom died," Buffy said. "Nine years of lessons… and they paid off."

"Indeed," Giles said.

I didn't join the conversation— I just watched Dawn and Elaine as they danced, both of them mixing up hip-hop, jazz dancing, swing dancing, modern and even ballet, putting it all to this high-energy, beat-heavy dance tune that should have been impossible to make some of those moves work with— and making it work anyway.

Sweet.

They stopped dancing after that song, and we all congratulated them on some incredible dancing, very sincerely, and, of course, I congratulated Elaine with a kiss.

Then we sat and talked, and, after some lip-biting, I told everyone what I intended to do the next day.

"Um, guys, there's something… something I'm going to do tomorrow." I sipped from my bottle of water as they all looked at me, steeling myself for what I figured would be an argument. "I need to tell you, I guess. I mean— I've decided that it's what I have to do, and… and I'm doing it, but you guys all deserve a heads up."

"All right, Rose," Giles said in a gentle, accepting tone. "Tell us what you need to."

"My mom and I haven't got along much for the last few years," I said. I blushed, drank again, then said, "It's been mostly my fault, I think— I mean, I know I've been hard to live with, and sometimes I made it harder on purpose, not because of Mom, but because of Jerry, the man she married. I hate him. And no, I'm really not exaggerating, I mean it— he's scum, and I hate him. But I— I've been able to control my temper better lately, I think because of the Slayer power—"

Buffy snickered, and said, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, but— no. Just no. We Slayers are not noted for our temper control."

"Maybe not usually," I said, looking her in the eye, "but how many Slayers had the ghost of their dead father explain to them how big a responsibility it is to have that power?"

"Oh," Buffy said, and looked… not ashamed, really, just contrite.

"Yeah," I said. "I don't know that that's why I'm able to… to keep my stupid mouth shut, at least more often than before, but I think it is. I think knowing that I've got powers made to help people, that these 'Powers That Be' saw something in me that they could trust, that's… making me think more.

"And I have to tell you, having things get better between me and Mom, having her accept how I feel about Elaine, having her… proud of me again, that's… between that and Elaine I'm really, truly _happy_ for the first time since my Daddy died."

I gulped more water to give myself time to fight off tears, felt Elaine's arm around my waist tighten comfortingly, saw that none of the Scooby Gang were looking impatient, and realized that they were all already my friends.

"So to keep that going, to keep Mom and me getting along, keep her able to be proud of me, there's something I have to do." I took a deep breath, prepared for a storm of words. "I have to tell her the truth— the truth of what's happened to me, what I've become, and what I'm going to do with it. We're going to take a drive tomorrow to talk, just her and me— that's when I'm planning on doing it.

"I won't lie to her, not even by keeping my mouth shut. I've got her back, and I'm not losing that again."

"All right, Rose," Giles said. He produced a notebook and a pen, scribbled a number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "She'll have questions you may not be able to answer. I recommend that you have her call me."

"Yeah, this is a good idea, Rose," Buffy said. "I kept it secret from my Mom for a couple of years, and when she did find out, it was bad. Up front… it may be hard, and there may be shouting— but it's probably going to be a lot better that the disaster that I caused."

"Yeah, that was bad," Dawn said. "You're probably doing the right thing, Rose. Especially if you guys are getting along now."

I stared for a minute, blinked, looked at Xander and Willow.

"Don't look at me," Xander said. "The hardest thing I ever had to tell my parents was that I broke the front window trying to learn to throw a decent football pass.

"Your choice, Rose— but I agree with the others, I think you're making the right choice."

"Me, too," Willow said. "I mean— well, I had to tell my parents I was in love with a woman, but you've told your mom that already, so comparison wise? I got nothin'."

"You— Giles, Buffy, you really are okay with it?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Giles said. "Rose, Buffy's life got much easier after she told her mother— if we ignore a period of separation caused by flaring tempers and emotional trauma that is not likely to plague you."

"You ever actually met anybody Irish?" I asked. "Tempers flare, trust me."

"I think he was referring to the trauma, Rose," Buffy said in a quiet voice that told me the trauma had been hers. "That you aren't going to have to deal with— and that's a good thing, trust me."

"Sorry," I said lamely. "I didn't mean…."

"It's okay," Buffy said. "Seriously, it was bad— but it worked out okay in the end."

"Regardless," Giles said. "Rose, you must live your life how you think appropriate. I've learned that much from Buffy, over the years— among other things.

"Tell your mother, and have her call me with any questions she may have."

"On the plus side," Buffy said lightly. "You won't have to worry about her saying, 'and you go out and fight these things _alone?_ No, not happening!' You've got Elaine— and when the time comes, if I'm moved here by then… you've got me."

"Us," Dawn said firmly. "You've been promising to teach me more about fighting for a year, now, Buffy, and now that Rose gave me a taste again, you're going to do it. No more excuses."

"And what are you going to do if I don't?" Buffy asked, giving Dawn an almost parental look.

"Buffy, I did get some things out of the house when we left," Dawn said. "Not a lot— and I will share the pictures, most of them. But your baby pictures? No way— those are mine, and if you want me and me alone to see them…."

"We'll start tomorrow," Buffy said. "Blackmailing hussy."

"And ignoring the Summers family rivalry," Xander said, "I'll be there, too, if you shout for help. I've been making a career out of playing backup for Slayers, and it's a career I happen to like. Oh, sure, the hours can suck, and the benefits are nonexistent, but how many other jobs are there where job satisfaction includes the satisfaction of saving the world?"

"And I'm your mojo-maven," Willow said. "You need spells, I'm your girl."

"I— you guys— thank you!" I said.

"Yes," Elaine said. "Thank you. I'm so glad we met you guys that— well, it makes me want to dance. More."

"Feel free," Xander said. "That was cool."

"But perhaps later," Giles said. "I think we should get the girls home, and then— well, it's still light enough to see plainly. I think I want to drive by one of the possible houses that Willow found for us."

"The stone one?" Willow asked, excited. "Looks like a chalet mated with a castle?"

"Not how I'd have put it, but yes," Giles said. "It would be big enough to house all of us plus Robin, Andrew, Faith, Kennedy, of course— and several students, besides. And with it being a foreclosure sale… I think I may come out of the deal with one arm and a leg still in my possession."

"Sounds cool," Buffy said. She looked thoughtful, then said, "The house, I mean. Not you losing an arm and a leg, Giles."

"Yes, thank you for that clarification," Giles said. He cleaned his glasses briefly, then said, "Well, shall we?"

He took us home, me first, and they all got out to meet my Mom, who came down to the street when we pulled up.

"Mom," I said, fighting the butterflies in my stomach down as they tried a mass exodus up my throat, "these are my new friends; Dawn, fellow high-schooler and dances almost as well as Elaine, maybe as well, even; her sister Buffy, fellow martial artist and better than I am; Giles, who trains Buffy; Xander, one of Buffy's best friends, and Willow, the other of her best friends.

"Guys, this is my mom, Kelly Wentworth.

"I met Dawn through a website we both go to sometimes, and… well, they were in the area and came to my test."

"Oh, that was you who called," Mom said— and I almost smacked myself. I'd never wondered how they knew where I was!

"Me, actually," Dawn said, raising her hand a little. "I think I talked to your other daughter. She told me Rose was at her test, where it was, and that she thought it was open to the public. And I'm glad she did— that was freaking amazing!"

"Yes, I'm very, very proud of Rose," Mom said, and squeezed my shoulders. "And very glad to meet you all. Buffy, Rose says you're a better martial artist than her— how long have you been studying?"

We talked for a few minutes, and nobody said anything that would make mom weird— well, more weird than she was over me having an internet friend show up— and everyone took their leave, after I pulled Elaine around to the far side of the van and gave her a goodnight kiss.

"See you tomorrow," she said. "Six, right?"

"Betcha," I said. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Good night, Rose."

They took off, and Mom and I went to the kitchen, where I helped her put the finishing touches on dinner while we talked a little.

"They seem like nice people," Mom said. "But… well, what about Buffy and Dawn's parents?"

"Their mom died a couple of years ago," I said. "And they… well they're sort of conspicuous about not mentioning their dad. I think maybe he abandoned them. Dawn says Giles is pretty much dad to both of them, though I don't know if he's her guardian, or if that's Buffy, really."

"Rose… an internet friend just happened to be in the area and dropped in on your test?" Mom gave me a look that said she wasn't a sucker. "Now, even with Buffy being a serious martial artist, that's a little hard to believe."

"Um, okay, I see your point," I said. I went and stood next to her, let her see my face on purpose, since she could read it like a book. "Mom… yeah, there's more. It's nothing bad, I swear, and I will tell you, Mom, but… tomorrow? Please?"

Mom looked at me, saw that I wasn't trying to hide anything from her in my face, and said, "All right. Tomorrow.

"But after all this build up, Rose Erin Killian, tomorrow's story had better be a good one!"

"It is, Mom," I said. "It really is."


	15. Chapter 15

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 15

_Rose:_

Please don't ask me how I got through the period between waking up at six in the morning and Mom, Jerry and Laurie coming back from church that day. I don't know how I did it, and if I ever need to do something like that again, I'm afraid that thinking about how to do it might make it impossible to do.

I know I paced a lot. I mean a _whole lot_— I must have done several miles just going back and forth from my balcony railing to my bedroom door and back again. Past that…? Not real sure.

When they all got back at quarter to twelve, I ran downstairs and started fixing lunch while Mom changed— leftover roast beef, reheated in au jus dipping sauce, deli buns to put it on, and a big old pile of French fries cooked in the Fry GranPappy. Good, filling, simple— and I barely knew I was eating, didn't eat as much as usual. Mom noticed, but Laurie and Jerry didn't— Laurie was still bubbly over her slumber party, and Jerry was preparing for his usual fair-weather golf game with some guys from his law firm.

Once lunch had been cleaned up after, Jerry left, saying he'd be back about five as usual, Laurie went upstairs to read, and Mom and I, both dressed casually now, got into her Mercedes convertible to go for that drive and talk.

The butterflies in my stomach had, in the time between lunch and getting in the car, morphed into freaking pterodactyls.

We rode north out of town, and Mom stuck to back roads. The top was down, the radio off, and, after we passed the last traffic light on our way out of town, I finally spoke.

"This… talk doesn't need to be about me and Elaine anymore, does it Mom?"

"No, honey, it doesn't," Mom said. "I understand that this is no phase, now, and… and I've gotten past that last, stupid bit of prejudice. The look on your face the night you met her… Rose, I know looks of love. That's what you had on your face. So I'm going to be a twenty-first century grown-up about this, and accept it.

"It's easier, I admit, because of how much I just plain like her— I had horrible visions of you coming home with a crewcut-wearing, I-want-to-be-a-man type of girl, but… that's about as far from Elaine as you could get."

"Okay," I said. "And thank you for that, Mom. It means… everything to me."

"I've been wishing something I did could mean that much to you for a long time," Mom said softly. "I'm glad we found something."

"Yeah, me, too," I said. "And… look, I've said it already, but I need to say it again. Most of the problems we've had since you married Jerry have been my fault, Mom. I never gave you a break, never even tried to be civil to him. It had to be awful, being stuck between me and him that way, and I'm sorry I did that to you.

"I still don't like him, Mom— I'm not going to lie to you, and that includes about him— but I can get along with him. Be decent to him. He's being decent to me lately, so… he gets points, too."

"Thank you, Rose," Mom said, and reached over to squeeze my hand. "That means everything to _me_."

"Good," I said. "The rest of… what I need to say to you should probably wait until we're stopped because there are some things it'll be easier to… to just show you, to help you see that I'm not lying and I'm not losing my mind."

"That's a little scary, Rose," Mom said in an even, level voice. "Could you maybe… ease into it, sort of? And start now? Please?"

I thought about that for a couple of minutes, and Mom let me think about it, didn't push, didn't keep glancing at me— and her making that sort of effort for me prompted me to make one of my own for her.

(And we now return to an essential fact of life that I feel is worthy of repeating; payback is not always a bitch. Like Lady Luck, payback can be a bitch— or a real sweetheart. That was a sweetheart moment.)

"Okay, I can try, at least," I said. "But… Mom, this is going to sound seriously weird, no matter what— will you just go with me, and try not to make any assumptions?"

"I'll certainly try," Mom said, and gave me a smile.

"Okay," I said, steeling myself for what I thought might be a serious ordeal. "Mom… do you believe in supernatural stuff?"

"I… yes, I suppose I do," she said, giving me a sideways look.

"Okay, so how about some specific stuff," I said. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Yes, I do." Mom didn't make anything big of it, just said yes— and that gave me a surge of hope.

"How about vampires?" I asked.

Mom was silent for a long time, and… her knuckles on the steering wheel, they all-of-the-sudden stood out in stark relief— that's how hard she was gripping the wheel.

"I do," she said in a low, disturbed voice, and after almost a minute of silence.

"Okay," I said. "Should I stop talking 'til we get to a place where we can park?"

"Maybe… no. No, I'm all right. That was just… not what I was expecting." Mom looked at me sideways, and I saw that I'd surprised her, big time, but not freaked her, or at least not completely.

"Okay, but… well, if you change your mind, just say so," I said. "Mom, maybe it'd be easier to ask what you don't believe in."

"Maybe," she admitted. "Okay, here's the list; I don't believe in the literal truth of any monster or demon that has been made popular in books, TV or movies. I think that there's a seed of truth in all of those things, Rose, but no literal truth. I think that the supernatural is very real— but different than what the media shows us.

"And I don't believe in anything that I've ever seen on the cover of _the Weekly World News_."

The thought of some of the mindless _crap_ that has appeared on the cover of that sub-tabloid (used in the same way as "subhuman") piece of shit just cracked me up, and I laughed for almost a minute, even while trying to fit a picture of my Mom around a picture of someone who believed whole-heartedly in all sorts of magical stuff.

"Okay," I said, finally, even as Mom turned off of the main road onto a dirt road. "Okay, that will make everything else a little easier."

"Well, I'm glad it makes it easier for one of us," Mom muttered. She drove silently for ten minutes or so, then pulled down the dirt road to a little-known, less-used boat ramp, with a picnic table off to one side of the ramp, and shut off the car. She then gave me a cheeky Mom-grin— one that said she had a good surprise for me— and got out to go to the trunk of the car. She got out a little twelve-can cooler and a pair of narrow cooler cups (the kind made to hold bottles, not cans), set them on the picnic table, filled each one from the cooler, working inside so I couldn't see, then handed me one. I looked, and I squealed.

"Green River!" I said. "Oh, man— Mom, thanks!"

Green River was a lime-flavored soda introduced way back when Prohibition started. It was hugely popular, second only to Coke, for the Prohibition years, but the company that made it went back to making beer after Prohibition ended, and Green River nearly died. When I was a kid, my Daddy found out he could still get it, though it had to be shipped from out of state, and he did— he'd buy a case every two months, and make it last. A Green River soda was a special treat for me, one I got when I'd done something really good, like bring home all A's on a report card or something.

"There's a dozen in here," Mom said. "I figured we'd probably drink four or six today, then have the rest for later— and you'll want to let Elaine have one, I know."

"Mom, seriously— this is great, thank you!" I hugged her hard, and she laughed and hugged me back.

"You did something special this week, honey," Mom said. "More than once, even— you've been honest with me when I know that had to be hard, and then your test— Rose, I'm so proud of my daughter the Sifu that I can barely stand it."

"Thank you, Mom," I said. I popped the top off of my bottle, clinked hers with mine, said, "Here's to us," and sipped.

"Yes, Rose," Mom said. "To us."

We both just relished the taste of this rare soda treat for a moment, then mom said, "Okay, Rose Erin… time for Ireland's Flower to tell her auld mother what's been going on of late."

I nearly dropped my bottle when she called me "Ireland's Flower," and I guess I went more pale than usual. Mom put her hand on my shoulder, guided me to sit on the bench seat of the picnic table, and sat down next to me.

"Honey, are you okay?" Mom asked. "You look… paler than normal."

"I'm okay, Mom," I said slowly, taking a deep breath. "It's just… Mom, that's the second time someone's called me 'Ireland's Flower' this week."

Mom stared, took a drink of soda, and said, "Okay, this is my fault. I did tell you that this had better be a good story… start telling it, Rose, please."

I told her, starting with Kurt Belden getting on my case, then hitting me, while Coach Phelps had been out of the gym. I told her how we'd been fencing, and how I'd been ready to give up, humiliate myself by trying to run— and then the vision, and the power, and how I'd suddenly been able to do all of those things I'd spent years trying to learn.

When I got to the fight at home, I made sure she knew it was, in my eyes, at least mostly my fault.

Then I bit the bullet, and I told her about what had happened between Jerry and I in my room. She turned white, and her lips thinned as they compressed.

Then I bit the _hand grenade,_ and I said, "Mom… I'm sorry. And I'm going to tell Jerry I'm sorry as soon as I can. I was wrong. It was… not worthy of me, or you, or Daddy, and I'll fix it, if I can. Have Brian delete the files, and have his friends delete them, too.

"And if you think I need punishing for doing it, I'll take it."

"No, you won't be punished," Mom said, after taking several breaths. "And I won't yell at Jerry, much as I might like to, for the things he said to you. You were both on edge, and you, at least had a good reason to be on edge, and for pushing him to that edge.

"But I would like to hear that apology when you give it, Rose."

"Okay," I said in a very small voice. "I really am sorry, Mom— and I'll fix it, if I can."

"I know, honey," Mom said— and the mad bled out of her face as she hugged me. "Now, before you go on, you need to know something; I believe everything you've told me so far.

"So, go on— this is fascinating."

"You— wow," I said. "Okay, look, Mom— do they give medals for 'belief above and beyond the call of mom-ness?' Because if they do, I'm putting you up for one!"

"Oh, hush, and keep talking."

"Not a lot of sense in that statement, Mom," I said, and grinned. Before she could do more than give me a good-natured glare, I said, "After the fight with Jerry, I decided I needed to get out of the house for awhile… and to talk to Daddy.

"I went to the cemetery, and I went back to the corner where he is, and I sat there and I told him everything. And… Mom, ever since I started going there alone and talking to Daddy, I've heard him answer— and known that it was just me, filling in what I knew he'd say if he was there, or what I wanted him to say— but not this time. This was real— and it was _Daddy_."

Mom only nodded, slowly and thoughtfully. I told her what he'd said, and her eyes got wider with every word, I think. She heard his lilt coming through— I couldn't have gotten rid of it if I'd wanted to, I don't think, and I didn't want to.

I talked through my meeting with Elaine, how she made my heart flutter from the second I met her, and then I got the part where the vampires showed up— and when I said, "… and then their faces changed, Mom, they—"

"Their faces got bumpy," Mom said in a distracted and… well, _remembering_ sort of voice. "Grew brow ridges. Their eyes turned yellow… and they grew fangs."

I stared, my chin on my chest, and Mom noticed, after a few seconds. "I've my own story t'tell, I think, Rose Erin. Dinna ye worry, lass, ye'll hear it, and soon— but not 'til ye've finished yer own."

I grinned helplessly— her Irish accent always makes me grin— and said, "Okay, but I'm telling you, lady— it had better be a good story!"

Mom laughed, and I waded back in. I told her about killing vampires, kissing Elaine, and getting scared by the caretaker, then coming home and making out under the tree before coming in (I didn't tell her about the places Elaine had put her hands while kissing me in the cemetery, or how I'd encouraged that, or how far we'd gone under the tree— but that's all I left out).

"It was Sifu who told us what was going on first," I said a couple of minutes later. "It's weird, sort of, how much interconnection there is here— see, Mom, it seems that the man who came to America from China and started my kung fu school fled in disgrace after a girl he was supposed to train and help out was killed.

"Kun Lo Chang was a member of a group called 'the Watchers Council,' a—"

"Dear god in heaven, you're _the Slayer!"_

I stared with my mouth open, unable to believe that my mother knew what a Slayer was, let alone could make the leap to realizing that I was one.

I made gasping noises, moved my mouth like a freaked-out fish for a minute, and finally managed to say, "You know about Slayers! And Watchers! And… all of it! How!"

"Honey… my sister Mary, your Aunt Mary, was a potential Slayer," Mom said. "And with her being only a year older than me, I followed her around a lot, when we were teens. I found out about it, and to keep me quiet, her Watcher— Phillip Carstairs— let me in on some things, told me a lot. I didn't really believe until one night— I was sixteen, and Mary was seventeen, this was not too long before I met your father— a bunch of vampires attacked the building where Phillip trained Mary, thinking she was the actual Slayer. There were only four of them, not a bunch, really, but… well, it was very scary. But I helped! I tripped on that was trying to attack Mary from behind, gave Mr. Carstairs time to stake it."

"Oh. My. GOD!" I cried. "Mom— oh, this is just too freaking _weird!_"

"I know," Mom said. She looked thoughtful. "Honey… there's only supposed to be one of you. One Slayer. How is Elaine a Slayer, too?"

"That's— that's important, yeah," I said. I sobered, tried to calm down. "Mom… you have to be worrying a lot, be sort of scared, and that you aren't yelling at me, saying no, telling me I can't do this… I love you."

She hugged me super-hard, that same super-tight, cuddly hug that she'd given me Wednesday night, and I gave back as good as I got.

"I love you, too, Rose," Mom said against my hair. "Never doubt it, never forget it— and never, _ever_ think it isn't the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"Now… tell me something that's going to make me worry less, would you? Because, yes, I am worried, and I am scared."

"Mom… Elaine's a Slayer, too, yes," I said. I didn't move out of that hug, no way was I letting that stop 'til I had to. "But you've met one more, one more of… well, lots, maybe. I don't know the whole story, but Buffy managed to activate every single potential Slayer on the planet, with Willow's help. And Giles, he's not Buffy's coach— he's her Watcher."

"Buffy's a Slayer," Mom said. She looked thoughtful for a minute, then said, "Well, that makes her having studied martial arts for eight years make a whole lot of sense.

"How many Slayers are there, now?"

"Willow says several hundred at least," I said. "Willow's a real-live witch, Mom, and she activated them with the help of a weapon made to be used by the Slayer, made to…." I thought hard, remembered what Willow had said the day before. "Made to have a power that resonates with the Slayer power, emulates it, yet isn't constrained like the original men who called up that power wanted it to be."

"Hundreds?" Mom said. "Really hundreds?"

"Yes, Mom," I said. I didn't leave her arms, but I looked up at her. "Mom… you get that I need to do this, right? That I can't… let someone else do it?"

"I don't think I like it very much, Rose," Mom said. "But I understand why you feel that way."

"Mom… I'll never be alone out there," I said. "It won't be like it used to be. I'll be a part of a team, if Giles manages to make things work how he wants."

"That helps," Mom admitted. "It does. But, Rose… I'll always worry. Always."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I said, and squeezed her again. "Really, I wouldn't."

"Thank you, Rose," Mom said, and kissed my hair. After a moment, she said, "Okay, I've got the gist of things, here— so why don't you tell me the rest in a nice, orderly fashion, so I understand it as well as I can. And then I think we'll go home, and if you can reach him, I'd like to talk to Mr. Giles before Jerry gets home."

"He gave me his cell phone number to give to you," I said, and gave her the slip of paper. "He knew you'd have questions, and need to talk to a grown-up. He thought you'd have more questions than you will, I'm sure, but still— I know he'll answer you."

Mom took the paper, put it in her pocket, and I started talking again. I told her everything that was left, and she listened, really, really listened— and held on to me the whole time, looked at me, held me, squeezed me— and that afternoon by the unused boat ramp was just… plain… wonderful!

We went home after a while, taking the eight remaining bottles of Green River with us, and got back about three. Mom went inside and called Giles, then started fixing supper, making Grandma Riley's fried chicken, like she'd promised.

Giles and the others got there in about fifteen minutes— they'd been at Eastland Mall, less than a mile away, just browsing and poking around— and Giles went in to talk to Mom while the rest of us hung out in the back yard and shot the breeze, sitting around on lawn chairs under the big oak tree back there.

When I told them that my Aunt Mary had been a potential, and that Mom knew a lot about this already, they looked stunned.

"Giles is right," Buffy said finally. "Something big is going on— there are too many coincidences flying around, it's worse than bugs on a porch light."

We just talked for a while. I listened to some stories about stuff they'd faced, and things were just fine— until, at about four-thirty, Elaine came over.

That's when things went to hell.

_Elaine:_

After Giles dropped me off Saturday afternoon, I went straight upstairs and changed to a clean leotard, and started for the basement. My folks called as I was passing through the kitchen to go to the basement, and I talked with them for a pleasant twenty minutes or so, told them about Rose getting her instructor's rating in kung fu, making another friend who danced, all the usual stuff. It was a good talk. Mom gave me their flight information, so that if they got help up by weather or something, I could check it out and not worry (apparently, there were some heavy storms over the Tennessee-Kentucky area).

"Thank god we can get a straight-to-Bloomington flight these days," Mom said. "I always hated driving down from Chicago, and hated the little propeller-plane shuttle you had to fly if you didn't want to drive even more."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to getting my license, but not to driving anywhere near Chicago," I said.

"I knew you were a smart girl," Mom said, then said goodbye and hung up.

I went downstairs and danced like a fiend for a while, got my exam dance down to where just a few more rehearsals and I'd be ready, then went to bed.

Sunday, I danced in the morning, and sat down to study in the afternoon, starting with biology, since it was my first test the next day. I moved on to American Government after that, got lost in the constitution and all that stuff, came up for air about four-fifteen, and decided to get a snack.

I went to the kitchen, turned on the TV in there for a distraction— I don't eat in the living room after a disaster involving a plate of spaghetti when I was eleven— and sliced myself up a pear, then made a little bowl of popcorn to go with it.

I picked up the two bowls to take them to the kitchen island to eat, glanced at the TV, and stared for a long moment.

Then my world _broke_.

_Interlude:_

Jerry begged off after nine holes of golf, claiming truthfully that he had work to do, and went to a bar near the Bloomington offices of Wolfram and Hart, had one beer before going on to the firm, and down to sub-basement four and the big diagram room.

He went through several checkpoints, the guards getting more and more creepy with each one, and finally stepped into the big diagram room, spotted a pair of Sl'thosh demons at the front of the room, and saw a drawing of a big jet plane's silhouette drawn on the floor, full sized, and carefully walked to the front of the room, staying well clear of the drawn silhouette.

"Mr. Wentworth," said the Sl'thosh who seemed to be in charge. "Good of you to come early— we're nearly ready to start."

Jerry looked around, saw that the orange-skinned demon, whose skin seemed to have segmented ridges, like an earthworm, but dry and scaly, had several spring-loaded devices sitting in a double line near the left-side engine, and washtubs with a dry-ice fog coming off of them near the devices.

"So… what's the plan?" Jerry asked. He knew that Sl'thosh were masters of transportation magics, capable of gating between dimensions, or even just teleporting inside a single dimension.

"It's quite ingenious, really," said the Sl'thosh. "Someone in Liquidations came up with it, of course, and Mr. Manners assigned myself and my assistant to the project.

"We will use the drawing of the plane, accompanied by several swatches of material taken from its seats and smeared with grease from its landing gear only yesterday, to call up a three-dimensional image of the plane. Due to the layout of the airport and traffic and weather patterns, the plane will bank to the left rather sharply not terribly long after takeoff— before reaching two hundred feet of altitude, even. At that time, we use the spring cannons to launch some two dozen balls of ice into the air— and teleport them to a point just in front of the plane's port side engine, destroying it— but leaving no evidence. The remaining thrust from the starboard engine will send them further out of control, and they crash into the ground. The investigators from the FAA will never discover what caused the crash, so… no suspicion of sabotage is likely, and certainly nothing that could point at Wolfram and Hart."

"That is good," Jerry said, grinning in admiration. "So… what's my part?"

"My assistant and I will handle the actual gate actions, the fine manipulations of magic needed for accurate targeting," the Sl'thosh said. "You will read the actual spell, Mr. Wentworth— it's on the big screen, there. The words have been produced phonetically, and the script will change color from white to green at the rate at which you should read it."

"This will be pretty easy, then," Jerry said. "Can we go over the spell without danger, make sure I'm pronouncing everything correctly?"

"We can, yes," the demon wizard said, pleased at Jerry's attention to detail. "Come, let us get started, Mr. Wentworth."

At five minutes before the plane's scheduled departure time, the Sl'thosh started the imaging spell, and they saw the plane roll out onto the runway and sit there for only ten minutes— an unusually short delay, Jerry thought, pleased— before starting to taxi for takeoff.

As the plane lifted from the ground, the lead Sl'thosh said, "Now."

Jerry started reading the words of the spell, pacing himself carefully, saying each syllable as it turned from white to green, no sooner. As the plane started to bank, Jerry started the last, short phrase.

"Ahk na-thon, hovar sendil, ARESSTHULL!" Jerry said, shouting the last word as he'd been told to do.

The spring-cannons went off, flinging two dozen softball-sized globes of hard ice into the air, where they flashed white, vanished —

— and Jerry saw them, just barely, appear in front of the plane's left-side engine, and several of them get sucked in. While the illusion included no sound, Jerry could imagine the tortured scream of the turbine as the blades warped, then shattered— and a great gout of flame appeared out of the engine even as the plane lurched over farther, pointed straight at the ground— and the illusion winked out.

"Well done, Mr. Wentworth," the Sl'thosh said, coming over to him. "Perfectly timed, perfectly pronounced— well done."

"I just said the words," Jerry said. "You and your assistant did all the work— thank you."

He left a couple of minutes later, checked his watch, and decided that, while he couldn't get through the back nine in the time he had left before he'd normally get home, he could hit a bucket of balls on the driving range.

He headed back to the golf course, whistling cheerfully, his mind already on correcting his slice.

_Elaine:_

I looked up at the TV on the counter, saw that it had been left on CNN— my parents had been the last to watch it— and that they were showing an airplane crashing. The little news-banner thing under it said, "Delta Airlines Flight 631 crash, Orlando, Florida."

I dropped the bowls, lunged at the TV and turned it up, listening while I looked for the paper that I'd written my parents flight information on.

"The plane went down shortly after takeoff when the port-side engine suffered a visible catastrophic failure. Authorities have yet to release any information about possible survivors, but given the explosion and fire on impact, there is very little hope that anyone survived."

I found the paper, looked at it, tried to make my hands stop shaking.

"To repeat our story, Delta Airlines Flight 631, bound for the Central Illinois Regional Airport in Bloomington, Illinois, crashed shortly after takeoff from Orlando International Airport in Orlando, Florida."

_Oh, god._ I looked at the paper in my hands, saw, "Mom and Dad— Delta flight 631, leaves 3:50pm (my time), arrives 8:15 (my time)."

I looked up at the screen in time to see the plane's left engine shoot smoke and flame, and the whole plane just… lunge to the left, until it was pointing almost straight down, and then it passed out of sight, behind some trees and buildings— and then fire and smoke shot up and then I was on the floor, my hands across my gut, looking at the pile of vomit in front of me, and the phone was ringing.

I got up and looked at the caller ID, saw that it was my grandma and grandpa's phone calling— and I walked out of the house, walked down the street, not crying, not thinking, just going to the only person who could make me stop wanting to die.

I walked. I didn't run. I walked. I went to Mercer, walked down to Washington, looked both ways, saw nothing, went across Washington. When I was almost across, someone braked and honked, and I heard them yelling at me over music, but it didn't make any sense.

Nothing made sense.

I got into the yard of the nice dentist, and I finally started to run. I ran towards Rose's house, hearing those awful, evil words over and over again as I started running.

_Crashed shortly after takeoff. Crashed shortly after takeoff. __Crashed shortly after takeoff. Crashed shortly after takeoff_.

I saw Rose and most of the others— no Giles, maybe he was talking to Kelly, after Rose had told her what was going on, see, I was smart, even when the world had broken, I was smart— sitting under the oak tree near her balcony. I ran faster, and Buffy stood up, called my name, knowing something was wrong.

Then Rose stood up and started towards me, and I was going to fast to stop and I grabbed her and I cried, "They're dead! Oh, god, they're dead!"

Rose grabbed me, and we fell to the ground as my legs just… stopped working.

_Crashed shortly after takeoff._

I started crying, and I don't know when I stopped.


	16. Chapter 16

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 16

_Rose:_

"So then Buffy looks Giles right in the eye and says, 'If the apocalypse comes— beep me!' " Xander said, and I laughed aloud.

"Hey, I had to establish who was boss, you know," Buffy said. "And I thought—"

Buffy stopped talking, stood up, looked across Dr. Hubert's yard, and called, "Elaine?"

I stood up, saw Elaine running across the Hubert's yard, sprinting all out, and even from halfway across our pretty big yard and a little of theirs, I could see that she was crying.

I started to go that way, and she almost slammed into me, grabbed me, and cried, "They're dead! Oh, god, they're dead!"

I grabbed her, and her legs gave out. We fell to the ground, me clutching her tightly, and her sobbing hysterically, like the world had ended.

"Get my mom!" I said over my shoulder.

Dawn took three running steps towards the back door, and Mom opened it, started out while looking over her shoulder, back into the kitchen.

"Rose, I think you'd better call Elaine, hon—" Mom looked around, saw Elaine in my arms, crying, both of us on the ground and said, softly, "Oh, god."

Then Mom was there, beside us, her arms around us both, and Giles was behind her, looking helpless and sad and angry, and I said, "Mom, what's going on?"

"There was a plane crash, honey," Mom said softly, keeping hold of us both, rocking Elaine some. "It was coming from Orlando to Bloomington, and I saw that and got worried— oh, Elaine, honey, I'm so sorry!"

Elaine only wept harder, clung to me so hard that it hurt, and wailed so loud it was more like she _screamed_ for a moment.

Giles knelt next to me, behind me sort of, and reached over to where Elaine's hand clutched at my shoulder, pulled something from her hand— a piece of paper. He opened it, looked at it and said, "Oh, damn. I'd hoped… damnation."

He turned the paper to where Mom and I could see it, and I read, "Mom and Dad— Delta flight 631, leaves 3:50pm (my time), arrives 8:15 (my time)," written in Elaine's elegantly sloppy handwriting.

"Flight six-thirty-one," Mom said in a hopeless voice. "Oh, Elaine, honey, I'm so sorry."

Elaine didn't answer, didn't look at Mom, just sobbed harder and clung to me harder. I held her, whispered, "Oh, love, I'm sorry," and rocked her, taking over that job from Mom.

The others backed away a little, trying to be considerate, and Mom said, "I'll be right back, Rose, Elaine."

She went inside, and Dawn came over, knelt beside us, crying openly, and put one of her hands on Elaine's where it rested on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Elaine."

Mom came back out then, and Dawn got up, got out of her way— but kept her hand on Elaine's as long as she could.

"Elaine," Mom said softly, putting a hand on Elaine's shoulder. "Sweetie, I know you're hurt, and I know it's awful, but… you need to know, honey, I want you to stay with us for now, okay? With Rose."

Elaine seemed to hear, actually nodded.

"Honey… is there anyone we should call?" Mom asked. "To let them know you're safe?"

"M-my grand p-parents," Elaine stammered, still crying. "They called— I couldn't answer the phone, I— please, I _couldn't,_ don't be m-m-mad!"

"No, Elaine, no, I'm not mad, I understand," Mom said. "Honey, do you remember their phone number?"

"No, I n-never call them, Mom always— sh-she—"

Elaine collapsed back into sobs, and Mom looked worried.

"Honey… did you lock the house?" Mom asked.

Elaine just shook her head.

"Elaine, you'll need some things from home," Mom said. "And right now, maybe you shouldn't be going there. Would you like me to go get some things? Clothes, your toothbrush, things like that?"

Elaine nodded, cried harder, and tried to hug Mom one-armed.

"I'll do that, then," Mom said. She moved around behind me, said in my ear, "Get her inside if you can, Rose. She's sleeping in your room with you, I'll tell Jerry.

"I've told Laurie what happened, she knows to not bother you right now. So you get Elaine inside when you can, and lie down with her. I'm going to get her stuff to last a day or two, and look for a phone number for her grandparents."

"I saw their phone, Mom," I said. "They have caller ID. Get it from there.

"And Mom… thank you. I'm more glad than ever that you're my mom."

"Kelly, may I drive you?" Giles asked. "I know where the house is, and I shall of course wait outside— but I'd like to help."

"That would be good, thank you, Rupert," Mom said, standing. She looked tired and hurt, and because she looked that way over Elaine, I decided that I loved her more than I had a few seconds before.

They left, and Dawn came over again, said, "I heard what your mom said. I know you don't actually need help, being a Slayer and all… but if you'd like some help with getting her inside, I'd like to help."

"I'd like that," I said, feeling a fresh wash of friendship for her. I bent to Elaine, put my mouth right against her ear, and said, "Love, can you get up? If you can, we can go lie down in my room. I won't leave you, I promise."

Elaine didn't answer, but she started to uncoil herself from around me, slowly. It took most of a minute to get unwrapped, and then another ten seconds for her to get to her feet, me supporting her on one side, Dawn on the other. Once she was up, I glanced at Buffy, Willow and Xander. Buffy and Willow were both crying and hanging onto Xander— and Xander, though he wasn't sobbing, had tears in his eye.

My god, but I had lucked out in the friends department! These people— We'd known them for less than two days, and they were hurting enough over Elaine's pain to be crying? I loved them all for that.

"I'll be right back," Dawn said. "I'm going to help them upstairs."

The others just nodded, and we started for the back door. Elaine was very unsteady, and I figure that a turtle on valium would have moved faster than we did, but with me on one side and Dawn on the other, she didn't fall. Dawn opened the door when we got there, and we went inside.

It took most of five minutes to get up to my room and get Elaine down on my bed. I made sure she was facing towards the door, because I didn't want to leave her sight— but I was going to thank Dawn, and do it right.

I went to Dawn, stood up on tiptoes, put my arms around her neck and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you, Sunrise," I said in an unsteady voice. "For the help— but mostly for caring." I kissed her cheek, then let myself back down.

"You're welcome," she said. "I'm so sorry, Rose— tell her, when she's calmed down enough to know?"

"She knows now," I said. "But I'll tell her, I promise."

"Will you let us know about… you know. Visitation and funeral stuff?"

"I will," I promised.

Dawn bent to kiss my cheek then, and I hugged her again.

"Sunrise?" Elaine said in a very weepy voice from the bed.

We both looked around, and Elaine was lying there looking lost and shocked, but seeing me, seeing Dawn.

"I like that," Dawn said, going over and kneeling beside the bed. "It's like… a new name for new friends. I like it a lot."

"Thank you for h-helping Rose get me here," Elaine said. "And thank you for— for trying to help me. I… you…."

"Ssh," Dawn said. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I know it hurts, and I know you need to just _let_ it hurt. Don't fight it, that only makes it worse, Elaine."

Elaine didn't answer with words, just reached out an arm and pulled Dawn in to hug her. They held on for a minute, then Elaine let her go. When Dawn settled back, Elaine said, very quietly, "Thank you, Sunrise."

"You're welcome," Dawn said, and stood. "You let Rose help you— and I'll see you later."

"Will you come to the— the f-funeral?" Elaine asked.

"We all will," Dawn said. "It's already decided, Elaine."

"Thank you," Elaine whispered.

Dawn reached down and squeezed her hand, hugged me again, and left quietly.

I went to the bed, climbed in, and pulled Elaine close, hugged her tightly, and felt more than heard it when she started to sob again.

I held her, and I rocked her, and I tried to give her an anchor to hold onto.

After a while, she fell asleep— and I wasn't far behind.

_Interlude:_

Kelly Wentworth looked around the living room of the house that had been home to her daughter's girlfriend and nearly wept. She could see the personalities of Elaine's parents in the furnishings and the décor, and knowing that those people were dead, that their own daughter would never see them again, never know their touch… it hurt.

She shook herself and did the things she'd come here to do.

Finding Elaine's room held no difficulty, and packing a couple of days clothes in a sports bag even less. She remembered to check Elaine's bathroom and grab the girl's toiletries and toothbrush, even.

Then came the harder part. She needed a list of phone numbers, and Elaine's keys.

She didn't snoop— not more than she absolutely had to, and that turned out to be minimal. Elaine's keys— they had to be Elaine's, with the keychain that read, "Dance: It's a groove thing!" and the lack of any actual car keys— were lying on the kitchen counter. The phone book, with that little personalized list space at the front mostly filled in, was in the kitchen drawer nearest the kitchen phone. There was an entry at the top for "Mom and Pop," and the number matched the one showing on the phone's caller ID. Kelly hesitated only a moment, then decided to take the whole book, as there were numbers on there for Elaine's school and both parents' work places, as well.

She cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, spilled pear and popcorn, and the place where Elaine had vomited, then checked both the back and side doors. She found both locked, and went out the front, locking it behind her with Elaine's keys to make sure she had the right ones. Rupert drove her back home, where the four younger people stood at the curb, Buffy and Dawn with their arms around each other, Xander and Willow holding hands.

"You'll let us know if we can help, I hope?" Rupert said. "And when the funeral and such will be?"

"Yes, of course," Kelly said. "Rupert… thank you. For the ride, and for your concern."

"Neither was terribly difficult," Giles answered. "Elaine… she's one of my girls by default, Kelly, as is Rose. To see them hurt so— Elaine more, of course, but Rose hurts for her, as well— it pains me. I want to help."

"You have," Kelly said, climbing out. "Thank you."

"Mrs. Wentworth?" Dawn said.

"Kelly," Kelly corrected. "All of you, please – call me Kelly."

"Kelly, thank you," Dawn said, and smiled a little though she was in visible pain. Kelly remembered that Dawn and Buffy had lost their mother, not so long ago, the way Rose told it. "Rose and I got Elaine inside and upstairs. They were laying down when I came out. I… would you tell them both that if there's anything we can do, call? They have the number and know what rooms we're in, and have Giles's cell phone number, if we're out."

"I'll tell them," Kelly said, and hugged the girl. Dawn seemed happily surprised at that, hugged back tightly. "And I hope you people know how glad I am that Rose and Elaine have friends like you."

They said their goodbyes, got in the van, and left. Kelly started up the walk, and was almost to the house when Jerry pulled into the drive. She waved at him as he pulled into the garage, then ran inside, up to the top floor, and deposited the sports bag with Elaine's things in it— including her keys— just inside the door of Rose's room. She glanced at the bed, saw them sleeping, Rose incongruously wrapped protectively around the much taller Elaine, and smiled just a little, glad that Rose had been able to help, before trotting back downstairs.

"Hello, dear," Jerry said as she entered the kitchen. "Is everything all right?"

He gestured around at the preparations for making chicken that had been left unfinished in the kitchen.

"No, not really," Kelly said. "The problem isn't ours, not directly, but… Jerry, Rose's friend, Elaine? Her parents were on a plane that crashed this afternoon. The news was saying that there didn't seem to be any possibility of survivors."

"Oh, crap," Jerry said. "That plane out of Orlando?"

"Yes, that one," Kelly said, assuming he'd seen it on TV in the bar after his golf game, or maybe heard the news on the radio on his way home. "Jerry… she has no relatives in the area, and I've offered to let her stay here."

"Of course, that's fine," Jerry said. He frowned for a moment, then said, "Kelly, I know that this is the very last thing on her mind right now, and that maybe I'm being a little insensitive even thinking about it… but when she's calmed down some, you should tell her not to sign anything from or even speak to anyone from the airline, not without her family's attorney present. The airlines… they can sometimes be a bit ghoulish, get people to sign waivers of rights to sue while they're too hurt to know what they're doing.

"And while there may be no fault, here, that's not something we can know. So she shouldn't sign anything. I know suing won't be on her mind— but she should have the option later. After all, she'll need income to make sure she can go to college, things like that.

"In the meantime… she can stay as long as she needs to. The west guestroom would put her closer to Rose— is that where you've put her?"

"No, I…." Kelly sighed. Time to bite the bullet. "Jerry, I've told her she can stay with Rose while she's here. They're… Jerry, they aren't just friends."

"Ah," Jerry said. "I see.

"Kelly… it's all right."

"It is?" Kelly said, staring.

"Honey… Rose was the problem. Not her orientation, just… her." Jerry shook his head, looked ashamed. "And the last few days… well, she's been different. Easier to take. She seems to be trying to get along with me. I've been trying to match it. It's not easy, I… Kelly, I won't lie about this. I still don't like her— but I think maybe I can, someday. She's growing up, forgiving me for marrying you— I think— and maybe someday… well, maybe you won't have to live in an armed camp.

"Elaine can stay here as long as she needs to, and with Rose. Just… ask Rose to make sure her door is locked if they're being, uh, intimate. I don't want Laurie walking in on that."

Kelly walked to where Jerry sat, hugged him hard, and kissed him harder.

"Between Rose growing up and you getting the idea that she _can_ grow up," Kelly said, "I think I may actually get some peace and quiet around here, finally.

"Thank you, Jerry."

"You're welcome," Jerry said. He looked around the kitchen. "Rose's congratulations dinner will have to wait, I imagine— shall we order out?"

"That's probably best," Kelly said. "I'll clean this up as soon as I've had a chance to call Elaine's grandparents— they must be half out of their minds."

"I'll clean it up, you make the call," Jerry said. He snapped his fingers a time or two, then said, "Ah! That's it.

"Kelly, the Winston Academy is still in session— Bill Warden's boy goes there, he was talking about how the boy was at home studying. I could call him, see who you need to call, if you like? On my cell phone, I mean."

"Please, Jerry," Kelly said. "And for that, and… everything else? Jerry, don't make any plans for getting up too early tomorrow. You're _not_ getting to sleep early tonight, mister!"

"So? No objections, your honor."

Kelly laughed, and went down to her study to call Elaine's grandparents.

It sucked, making that call— but Edward Morton's relief at hearing that Elaine was okay, would be with people who cared about her, was palpable, and that made it better.

"Mrs. Wentworth, there's no way I can thank you enough for taking care of Elaine," he said. "So I won't try, right now— I'll wait until I can think clearly, so I can do it right.

"Right now, her grandmother and I are packing to go up there— we're driving, we may never fly again— so it will be late Monday night when we get there. In the meantime, ask Elaine to call my cell phone when she wakes up, please. And you make sure you tell her we aren't mad that she didn't answer when we called earlier, that we understand."

"I'll do both, Mr. Morton," Kelly assured him. "I'm sorry for your loss, sir— but I'm glad we'll be able to help Elaine."

"Yes, so am I," Morton said. "I just wish I could think clearly enough to figure out what to do next. Taking care of Elaine… it's going to mean a lot of changes for my wife and I, and Margaret isn't… in the best of shape. We live in a seniors-only community, and it's almost a necessity that we stay here for the sake of Margaret's health. We'll have to figure out a way around that— I suppose a new house, a live-in nurse, and I know Elaine will help as much as she can— but that's no life for a girl her age."

"We can talk about that when you get here, Mr. Morton," Kelly said. "There are other possibilities, I think— but this isn't the time to talk about that."

"You're right, and I'm sorry," Morton said. "I'm just… upset and worried, and I shouldn't be bothering you with that."

"No, it's okay," Kelly said. "You just get on with what you need to do, Mr. Morton, and I'll have Elaine call you when she wakes up."

They said their goodbyes, and Kelly rubbed her eyes and leaned back, trying to think.

"Hey," Jerry said softly. "You awake?"

"Yes, I'm just… thinking." She sighed, straightened, took the slip of paper Jerry held out, saw that it was a phone number and a name.

"That's the name and phone number of Elaine's principal," Jerry said. "Bill had it, and said the man's sure to want to hear from you, as the school is… very focused on its students, and not just while they're at school."

"Thank you, Jerry," Kelly said. She shook her head. "What a damned mess."

"Yes, I'll agree with that," Jerry said. "Did you reach Elaine's grandparents?"

"I did," Kelly said. "And they're coming, but driving. Be in town late Monday night, probably."

"So what else is bugging you?" Jerry asked.

"Apparently Elaine's grandmother is in poor health, needs the care available in an assisted living home— which is also seniors only," Kelly said. "So her grandfather is worrying about that, how to take care of Elaine and his wife both."

"Ouch," Jerry said. "No easy answer there— a new home late in life, professional live-in care… no wonder he's worried.

"Then there's uprooting Elaine, taking her away from everything she's known, all her friends, her school… I don't know if that would be good for her."

"Jerry… Elaine's parents, they weren't poor, obviously," Kelly said slowly. "There are probably provisions for taking care of her in their wills, if they'd made any… right?"

"Very probably," Jerry said. "But unless her parents were more responsible than the vast majority of people our age, they won't have made wills yet."

"No, I'll bet they have," Kelly said. "Her father is— was— a State Farm bigwig, and her mother was a regional manager for a bank."

"Then you're probably right, and there are probably provisions for taking care of her, financially, at least," Jerry said.

"Yes," Kelly said. "And if that's so… damn. Jerry, I know you don't know her, and aren't fond of Rose, but I love the girl already, Jerry, and if there's no financial burden, if there's funds available to take care of her… Jerry, how would you feel about having another girl living with us?"

"Oh, my," Jerry said. He looked at Kelly carefully, and she met his gaze. "This… means that much to you? Elaine means that much to you?"

"Elaine means a lot to me, yes," Kelly said. She went for the totally honest approach, thinking that would probably be best. "And she means the world to Rose, Jerry. With Rose and I getting along again, for the first time since you and I got married, well, Elaine means that much more to me, because of that."

"I see," Jerry said. "Well… I'm not going to say yes, not right this instant, Kelly— but I won't say no, either. Let's wait a couple of days, see how Laurie feels about the idea, and see if… if Elaine fits us. And how she feels about this, how her grandparents feel about it….

"If all these things work out… well, damn the financial situation. I'm getting a promotion, Kelly, and a raise— I was planning on telling you Monday, letting you have your 'Rose days' this weekend. So if she fits, and we can work things out with her grandparents… then we won't worry about the money, we'll just see about getting custody of her."

"Oh, god, I love you," Kelly said, standing and going to kiss him. "Jerry, after that little speech… well, if I weren't worried about Elaine, I'd take you to bed now, mister."

"I can wait," Jerry said. "Anticipation will make it that much better.

"Oh, and there's one more call you should make— or I can, if you prefer. Kelly, the police may be looking for her, not because of her being in trouble, but because she's a minor and some friend or parent of a friend may have contacted them after seeing the news and not being able to reach Elaine."

Kelly said that she'd do that herself, kissed him again, let him go back upstairs, and sat back down to call the principal of Elaine's school.

Jerry went up the stairs, and if Kelly had seen the smirk on his face, she'd have been worried.

Or perhaps even scared.


	17. Chapter 17

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 17

_Elaine:_

I woke up with Rose cuddling me, felt warm and safe and happy for maybe two seconds— and then I remembered. I took a deep, shuddering breath, wanting to cry, but not wanting to wake Rose— and she said, "I'm awake. I'm here, Elaine."

Just like that, I started crying.

Rose held me, and she told me the truth. She didn't tell me it would be okay, she didn't lie to me that way— she just said, over and over again, "I love you. I'm right here, and I love you."

I dozed again, jerked awake from a nightmare to discover that it was almost dark— and Rose was still right there, holding me, pulling me back to the real world,

"I love you, Rose," I said, as soon as I was awake. "Thank you. For… for everything."

"You're welcome," Rose said. She pulled me close, hugged me. "Elaine… I know you aren't okay, but are you… are you okay enough?"

"I'm okay enough," I agreed. "Between you and your mom and Sunrise, I'm better than I have any right to be."

"Okay," Rose said. "Okay. That's enough."

"Almost enough," I said. I kissed her, not sexily, just… thank you. "That's even closer. All I need now is a bathroom— and to hug your mom."

Rose let me up, and I went to the bathroom, then she went before taking my hand and leading me downstairs. Kelly was sitting in the living room with Jerry, and she got up and came over to hug me right away. I found myself crying again, and she let me, held me, hugged me. When I got calmed down, she said, "I've talked to your grandparents, they know you're okay. They're on their way, by now— but they're driving, so it will be late tomorrow night before they get here. Your grandfather would like you to call his cell, as soon as you can. I've got the number."

"Okay, I will," I said. "In a couple of minutes, I will."

"No hurry," Kelly said, still holding me. "I also reached your principal— he said to tell you that your finals will be waived in all classes where you were carrying an A, and rescheduled for sometime in June for the other two."

"Dance and Biology," I said. "Okay, I can do that. I could take them now, even, I—"

"No, honey," Kelly said gently. "You need time. Don't push yourself."

"I… okay," I said, my voice low and hurt. "I'm sorry, I don't— I can't _think_."

"Of course you can't," Kelly said. "Honey… that's natural. But, listen— is there anyone you should call besides your grandparents, anyone who'll be worrying about you?"

My eyes went wide, and I remembered, thought of the girl I'd have run to if I hadn't had Rose. "Kimber! Oh, god, she's probably freaking out!"

"Why don't you call her and then your grandparents, Elaine," Kelly said. "It may do you some good. And when you talk to your friend, tell her she's welcome to come see you, and tell her how to get here."

"I… yes, thank you." I remembered my manners, then— I was pretty impressed by that, given how sizzled my brain was— and turned to Rose's stepfather. "And thank you, sir, for letting me stay and… and everything."

"Jerry, not sir," he corrected, gently enough. "You're welcome. You're welcome here, Elaine— and on that subject… Rose, your mother's told me the truth about the relationship between you and Elaine. I'm… I've handled your sexual orientation badly, Rose, but I'd like to fix that. So don't feel like you can't be affectionate, you two. I just ask that if you're being intimate, you make sure your door is locked, Rose. I'd rather Laurie didn't go popping into your room while you two were engaged that way."

"Thank you," I said in a very small voice. "I… thank you."

"Yes," Rose said. "Jerry… wow. Thank you very, very much."

"Kelly, Rose, Jerry, could I… could I have a little privacy while I call Grandma and Grandpa? Please?" I tried to find the words to explain why I needed to be alone, to make that call, but couldn't. "And maybe I should be alone when I talk to Kimber, too."

"Of course," Kelly said. "We'll go into the kitchen, you can stay out here."

I looked at Rose, afraid she'd be hurt, and felt a big wave of relief when I saw understanding on her face.

The three of them went off to the kitchen, and I sat down to make two hard and hurtful phone calls.

_Rose:_

We left Elaine to make her phone calls, went into the kitchen. Mom asked me if I was hungry, and I said yes, but that I'd rather wait and try to get Elaine to eat _something_ with me.

Then I did what needed doing. I turned to face Jerry.

"Jerry, I owe you a great big apology," I said. "Last Tuesday, when you came up to my room, I was so far out of line that it's almost scary. I'm sorry for what I said to you, and sorry for what I did. I called Brian this afternoon, told him to delete that video file, and to tell everyone he passed it to that they should delete it, too.

"I won't ever do that again, Jerry— and I'm sorry I did it this time."

Jerry blinked in astonishment— then he surprised the hell out of me.

"I'll accept your apology," he said slowly, "if you'll accept mine. I had no business saying the things I said to you. I had no business jumping down your throat like I did when you came home, either. I was just— I'd just gotten a promotion and a raise, and I suddenly saw that flapping away if you tried to sue the school. I let my ambition get ahead of my sense of fair play— and I'm sorry."

Then he offered me his hand, and said, "Peace?"

"Peace," I said, and shook his hand.

"Thank you, both of you," Mom said. "Please… remember this, next time you get angry at each other? How happy it makes me?"

"Deal," I said.

"I will," Jerry said. Then he said, "We weren't sure what kind of pizza Elaine likes, or even if she'd feel up to pizza, so we got a large… what do you call it? Ah— a large 'cholesterol special,' and a double order each of plain and garlic breadsticks with dipping sauce."

"And if none of that appeals, there's fruit, vegetables, and several kinds of sandwich fixings," Mom said, practically glowing with delight over this peace between me and Jerry.

"Thanks, both of you," I said. "I just wish…."

"That none of it was necessary," Jerry said. "Of course. But since it is, we'll do what we can.

"On that subject, Rose, while Elaine's here, her friends are welcome to come see her— just not after ten, please, on weeknights. Midnight, on Friday and Saturday."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll bet Kimber shows up tonight— her best friend."

"Well, tonight… make it eleven," Jerry said. "It's still a fresh hurt."

I started to worry, sad and awful as that may be. This was not just a change, it was a total flip-flop. Like doing a one-eighty in a car at a hundred miles an hour. While it made me happy to know I could do that much more for Elaine, it made me worry about what Jerry was up to, and I felt… bad about not feeling bad about that, if you get me.

I didn't trust him, still. _Couldn't_ trust him.

I was afraid that made me a bad person.

You know… I really wish it had.

_Elaine:_

Talking to Grandma was hard— Grandpa was driving, and couldn't talk, so I only got to talk to her. It was hard, and it hurt— and I felt a lot better after I had. Rose, Kelly, they loved me— but they'd never even met my parents. That made it different, talking to someone who'd known them, loved them like I had.

Then I called Kimber. She answered the phone herself, said, "Hello"— and I barely managed to say her name without sobbing.

"Elaine!" she almost gasped. "God, I've been— Elaine… where are you?"

"I'm at Rose's house," I said, almost sobbed. "I came as soon as— as soon as I saw the thing on TV. They're letting me stay until… for a while."

"Elaine, I'm so sorry," Kimber said, sobbing herself. "I wish I could make it not happen, I do."

"I know you do," I said. "I know. And I love you for it, Kimber, but… but I have to deal."

"Goddess, this sucks!" Kimber said. "Elaine, I know it's not your house, but… could I come see you?"

"Kelly— Rose's mom— she said to tell you that you could, and how to get here." I swallowed hard. "Can you? Or do you need to study? Or would your parents—"

"Mom's got the car keys in her hand," Kimber said, "and said to tell you that she'd come get me whenever. So give me directions, already."

I gave Kimber directions to Rose's house, hung up, and went to find Rose and the others.

They were in the kitchen, and when I walked in, I said, "Kimber's coming over. You said it was okay, so—"

"Of course it's okay," Kelly said. "How long will it take for her to get here?"

"They're on the far end of Normal," I said. "Maybe twenty minutes?"

"Okay, then I'm going to ask you— not tell, ask— to do something for me, Elaine," Kelly said. Jerry got up, nodded at me, and slipped quietly from the room as she continued. "I'm going to ask you to try and eat something, honey. You need to eat."

"I'll try," I said, feeling queasy. "But… mild stuff, maybe?"

"How about some salad?" Kelly said. "Fruit or vegetable, up to you."

"Some fruit salad, maybe?" I asked. "And some toast?"

"That's a good idea," Kelly said, and started moving around the kitchen. "Rose, you, too. Pizza's in the fridge, or there's breadsticks, garlic and plain."

I ate half a bowl of fruit salad and two slices of toast. I tried to eat more, but I felt… sick. No one pushed me, for which I was _so_ grateful. I'd just finished when the doorbell rang, and Rose didn't hesitate— she took me by the hand, said, "Mom, I'm going to take Elaine up to my room— send Kimber up, please?"

"All right, honey," Mom said.

Rose took me upstairs, sat me on the edge of her bed and asked, "Do you want to be alone with Kimber for a while, love?"

"No," I said immediately. "I want you both right here. Please."

A few seconds later there was a knock on the door, and Rose let Kimber in.

A minute or so later, I fell apart for a while again.

_Rose:_

Kimberly "Kimber" Duncan surprised the hell out of me. From the little bit of talking about her that Elaine had done, I'd pictured a girl of average height, pretty, maybe even very pretty.

What I saw when I opened the door to my room was purest Amazon sexpot. Six feet and an inch, maybe two inches— she had on flats— and probably a hundred and forty or forty-five pounds. Blond hair, just barely wavy, hung to just below her shoulders, and blue eyes peered out at me from between luxuriant— and un-made-up— eyelashes. And the face… angular, but not harsh. Beautiful cheekbones, a mouth that just missed being wide, and a nose that matched everything else perfectly. B-cups that would have been too small for her frame if she hadn't had a small waist… and sleek. She wore knee-length denim shorts and a T-shirt, and I could see the same muscle definition that Elaine and I had nowadays in Kimber's arms and legs.

I blinked a time or two, then found my voice. "Uh, hi. Look, lets save Elaine the trouble of holding it together to introduce us. I'm Rose Killian."

"I'm Kimberly Duncan, but only my parents and teachers call me that— to my friends I'm Kimber, and you definitely qualify already."

I shook her hand, and pulled her in still holding it. She saw Elaine sitting on the edge of my bed, and practically flew over there to get her arms around her.

Elaine fell apart again, clung to Kimber and reached for me at the same time— so I went to her.

Soon, Elaine was asleep, cuddled up to me, and with Kimber cuddled up to her spoon-fashion. It was an interesting muddle of arms and legs, and I decided that it was a good thing Kimber and I had already decided to be friends. The back of her hand, due to her arm being draped over Elaine's waist, was, due to my being shorter than Elaine, pressed against the button and upper zipper of my pants, really firmly. My arm was around Elaine's shoulders, and the back of my hand was— again due to height differences— pressed against Kimber's breasts, just a little above her nipples.

"This," Kimber said very softly, "is nice. But I hope your parents don't come in, that'd probably lead to some awkward questions."

"Mom and my stepsister won't walk in without knocking," I said. "My stepfather isn't likely to even come up here."

"Okay," Kimber said. She looked at Elaine and brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. "And that explains something. I was so scared about her not answering the phone, after I saw the thing on the news— I knew she'd be home studying. I tried to find your phone number, but every Killian I called hadn't heard of a Rose Killian."

"My stepfather's name is Wentworth," I said. "Not like that'd help, the phone's unlisted. I'll make sure you've got the number before you leave, though."

"Thanks," Kimber said. She looked up at me and said, "I'm glad you were here for her. And I'm glad I like you, and you're so easy to just… be with. I mean— you know we were romantic for a while, me and Elaine, and you aren't freaking over me cuddling her like this."

"No, I'm not," I agreed. "Mostly because you love her, and she needs that. Partly because she and I are in love, and I know she loves me. But… well, there's another factor. I think she won't be mad about me talking to you about it, though she might have preferred to be awake for it— just because I know I'm gonna blush."

"This should be good," Kimber said. "Spill."

I told her about Elaine's idea for the two of us not breaking up, and how we'd talked about having sex with other people, so long as we always came back to each other— and I told her how Elaine had used her, Kimber, specifically, as an example of someone she could let me make love with comfortably, knowing she could trust us both, and because she loved us both.

"Wow," Kimber said softly. "Talk about trust— and flattery."

"Yeah" I agreed. "Big time on both. So… I don't mind where my hand is, or where yours is, because I know Elaine wouldn't mind. Besides, I love you already, because of how you dropped everything and came running over here. So don't make any passes if you don't mean them, okay? Because I _will_ mean my response."

"Neat," Kimber said. "Just… wonderful.

"All right, no passes 'til I'm sure I mean them, and that Elaine's really sure of it being okay. But… in the meantime, I think this will be a nice way of showing you that I love you, too— because you dropped everything to take care of Elaine."

Her right upper arm was under Elaine's head, and now she rolled it, slowly and gently, and I saw what was coming, lifted my own head, let her slide her upper arm under it, felt her hand rest lightly on my back. I smiled, and put my own right arm— up, since I was facing Elaine and Kimber— across Elaine's waist, rested my hand on Kimber's waist, just above her hip.

It was a nice, warm, comfortable feeling, laying there, holding Elaine, Kimber holding her too, and each of us feeling warm and a little sexy towards the other— but a lot focused on the girl between us.

We both fell asleep, Elaine cuddled between us.

_Elaine:_

I woke up snuggled between Rose and Kimber, feeling warm and loved, even after I remembered what had happened. They looked pretty snuggly, which I really didn't mind. I wasn't thinking about that agreement Rose and I had, not then, but I did think that waking up like this with _Rose_ in the middle would probably… go places.

Then I felt awful for thinking that way right then.

I managed to lift my head enough to see Rose's clock, and found that it was ten at night.

"Mom's going to pick me up at a quarter to eleven," Kimber said from behind me. "I asked Mrs.— I asked Kelly, and she said that was fine."

"How are you, Elaine?" Rose asked. "Better, at all?"

"Better," I said softly, and kissed her lightly. Behind me, Kimber made a throaty, 'that looks nice' sort of sound. I looked back at her, said, "Thank you for coming so fast, Kimber."

"You're welcome," she said— and kissed the corner of my mouth, not really lingeringly, but a little… a _bit_ more than chastely.

"I feel guilty," I said softly, having felt Rose's attention sharpen at the sight of Kimber kissing me, and feeling… well, guilty about it, yes, but also sort of horny. (Buffy told me later, and Giles ratified, that this is a perfectly natural response after the initial shock of death has worn off. But I felt a little guilty, then.) "I'm getting all the kisses, here. You know, if you guys want to kiss, I'd probably like seeing it."

Kimber sat up a little, and so did Rose, and Kimber leaned across and kissed my Rose lightly on the mouth— lightly, but still a little sexily. They didn't stretch it, but it did linger some.

"I was right," I said in a low voice. "I did like seeing that."

Rose kissed me again, letting me set the pace, and I took it up to "lightly sexy," held it there for the thirty seconds or so that we kissed for. Then I rolled to my back and looked up at Kimber, who glanced at Rose, got a nod and a smile— then kissed me, again letting me set the pace— and I took it right to that same level, "lightly sexy," held it for as long as I'd held the kiss with Rose.

"Now," I said when Kimber pulled back, "if you two feel at all attracted to each other and don't kiss at least as sexy as you just kissed me, I'm going to be upset. If you don't find each other attractive, don't worry about it."

"Are you nuts?" Rose asked softly. "Hello, Amazon babe!"

"Thanks," Kimber chuckled. "But you're the one who looks like she stepped off of a movie screen."

"Quit talking and kiss each other, would you?" I said.

Kimber leaned over, slid her hand up to the nape of my Rose's neck, and kissed her— and I got monstrously horny in about seven-tenths of a second, watching that kiss.

Kimber meant business, and so did Rose— and with me right there, encouraging it, they knew that it really was okay. I saw Kimber's tongue dart into Rose's mouth in the play of muscles on her jaw, heard Rose let out a happy little moan of surprise, and then heard Kimber make a little growl— and knew that my Rose was "actively accepting" Kimber's tongue, as she always did mine. I watched, I got more and more excited, and I told myself not to, and that didn't help at _all_.

"Goddess," Kimber whispered when they parted. "Rose… thank you. And you, Elaine."

"Thank you, Kimber," Rose said. "And you, Elaine. And before you say anything, I already told Kimber your idea about us staying together by being comfortable with each other being with someone else, sometimes.

"But I admit, I did forget to mention that idea I had about us making love to another girl _together,_ sometime…."

"Silly Rose," I said softly. "Forgetting an important detail like that.

"Would one of you kiss me, please? Right _now?"_

"It's your turn, Rose," Kimber said— and Rose kissed me, gentle-but-eager, and when I cranked it up to super-sexy, she went with that happily.

Then Kimber kissed me that way, and all the old fire we'd had when we first became lovers came pouring back. Then she kissed Rose, and it was such a sexy thing that I expected them to start tearing off each other's clothes— and I was ready to help.

It didn't get that far, and right then… very probably a good thing. But we three did neck, and, while no one actually touched an erogenous zone, there was a lot of stroking of skin and hair, and we very deliberately stopped ten minutes early, took five for bathroom breaks and straightening clothes and hair out, then went downstairs very quietly, as we thought that Jerry and Kelly might have already gone to bed. They had, and we snuck out carefully to wait for Kimber's mom, so that she wouldn't wake them by ringing the bell or anything.

After Kimber left (getting a hug and a parent-safe kiss on the cheek from each of us before she got in her mom's PT Cruiser), we went back inside and upstairs. Laurie's door was open, and she was sitting on her bed, watching for us. She waved tentatively, and I tugged Rose inside.

"Elaine, I'm really sorry," Laurie said. "I just want you to know… well, I know you've got Rose to talk to and hold onto, but if you can't reach her and want a hug… I'm here."

I hugged her, kissed each cheek, and said, "It's no wonder Rose rants about how cool you are, Laurie. Thank you— and I'll remember."

Rose hugged her and kissed her, too, and then we went to Rose's room. Once we were inside, I looked at the stuff Kelly had brought from home, and found it perfectly acceptable. I'd need some more stuff later, but for now, this would do.

"Could I take a shower?" I asked Rose. "Or would the water in the pipes make a lot of noise?"

"No, it's fine," Rose said. "Nobody ever complains when I shower late. You want to be alone, or company?"

"Oh, god, company, please," I said. "I'm still so worked up over the necking with Kimber…."

"Me, too," Rose said, following me into the bathroom. "I wasn't sure you'd still be in the mood, though."

"Very in the mood," I said, then said softly, "As weird as that may be."

"I don't think it's weird," Rose said. "Elaine, you've lost two people you love. Wanting reminded that someone still here still loves you? Makes sense to me."

I didn't answer— or maybe I did, by starting to undress Rose. Then she undressed me, and we set the water temperature and got in the shower.

I got crazier, more "take control" than usual, even, and Rose went with that eagerly. We made love in the shower, then actually remembered to get clean.

We went to bed and… I still feel confused about how I felt.

There I was, sleeping with the woman I loved overnight, openly and honestly, no hiding, no pretending, no "sleepover fiction" between us and the world. I felt happy, warm, loved… special.

But this was happening because of an event that I hated, that hurt, that left me feeling lost and scared and… sick.

Somehow, Rose saw my hurt, my confusion, or felt it. Or maybe she just knew.

Whichever it was, she said to me, "I love you, Elaine, and I'm so glad to have you here that it's a little scary— but I wish you were at home, listening to your parents talk about how their trip was, I wish you didn't _have_ to be here. I wish that so much it hurts.

"I'm sorry, Elaine. I wish I could make it better."

"You do," I whispered, moving closer, letting her cuddle me, needing that for once, instead of needing to be the cuddler. "You don't just make it better, Rose… you make it bearable. You're maybe the only thing that could make me think that there's a future that I want to be in, right now.

"And before you say it, yes, Kimber helped. Kimber could have helped if I didn't have you. But it's not the same, couldn't be the same. The same for your mom, and your sister, and even Jerry— though I still get the feeling he's going along to make your mom happy, not to really help me— but none of them could make me care about next month. Next year. The decade after that.

"Only you can make me see that far ahead, Rose, see that far ahead and care about being in the picture."

She didn't say anything, just made sure that I saw her tears as plainly as she saw mine, then pulled me closer still and rocked me to sleep.

I had the strangest dream….

It started with walking through scrubby woods and some ratty-looking houses, only I wasn't alone. There was a man with me, and I felt like I should know him. He wasn't real tall, about five-eight, and he wore a light blue hooded sweatshirt over jeans and sneakers. He glanced at me, and his face was… a little familiar. Then he pushed back the hood of the sweatshirt, and I knew who he was, though I'd never met him, never even seen a picture of him. But that red hair, and that ready, devilish smile… I knew him.

"You're Rose's dad," I said, still walking through the woods at his side, looking at his profile, noting the resemblance to Rose, and the funny little burn scar on his neck, just below his ear. It looked, for all the world, like a shamrock.

"That I am," he said, grinning. "And you're her love. I'm Michael."

"I'm Elaine," I said. "Where are we going, Michael?"

"Well, that's a thing to be thought on," Michael said. "For it's not someplace that you're goin' to like, Elaine. But there's something that you have to see. Something that you have to know. It's… the Slayer power comes complete with the occasional prophetic dream, y'see, Elaine. Only because of the rules that constrain even the Powers That Be, you can't be shown too much at a time. You can be given only hints. You must figure out the things behind them for yourself, I fear."

"Okay, but— Michael, why you?" I asked. "Why send you to show me? Couldn't the Powers have sent… have sent…."

"No, lass," he said, his Irish getting thicker as he saw my hurt. "Not yet. There may come a time when you can see your parents again, when they can see you, an' none be hurt by it. But for now… it would only hurt you, make it harder for you to let go. And let go you must, though it may be hard, and harder for what you see."

I nodded miserably, and Michael put a hand on my shoulder for a moment, squeezed gently.

Then we came to a clearing, and I saw what he meant to show me.

"No," I said, shaking my head and starting to back away. "No, Michael, _please,_ no! I can't! I can't _see_ this!"

"Then they get away with it," Michael said, his voice making it plain that he hated doing this to me. "They get away with it, Elaine, and maybe they do it again, later. Maybe the next to die is my own Kelly, leaving you and Rose in the hands of the likes of that Wentworth devil.

"I'm sorry, Elaine— I'd not do this to one so recently hurt, let alone to one my daughter loves so— but you _must_ see."

I stood and I shook and I wept— but I watched the plane taxi towards me through the fence, and I knew it was my parents' plane, even though the time of day was wrong— the plane was coming at me out of the setting sun, and it hadn't been that late.

On this side of the fence stood a silhouetted man with a golf club, taking balls from a bucket, dropping them on the ground, and smacking them— only they didn't go out when he hit them, they went up, almost straight up.

A second man stood beside him, and him I could see plainly, not just his silhouette, through some trick of the dream. He was fifty or so, with straight gray hair, blue eyes, and a mouth with lots of smile lines around it. He spoke— but to me, not to the golfer.

"It was never about you, you know," he called in a kind voice. With every word he got louder, as the plane got closer, until at the end he was shouting to be heard. "Really. It wasn't like we meant to hurt you. But we needed an inroad to the power, and you were the best way, you and your girlfriend. So… we had to get you someplace we could see you, watch you, control you. Unfortunately, that meant your parents had to die.

"It really wasn't personal. Just so you know."

Then the plane was over us, banking— and the man golfing hit a ball, a big ball of ice, and it went straight up and into the engine of the plane. I heard the sound of the engine breaking, screaming, saw the plane start for the ground— and I screamed.

Michael grabbed me, folded me into a hug— and we were elsewhere. I realized that I'd never seen the room, but knew what it was. It was Jerry and Kelly's room on the bottom floor of Rose's house. Inside it was a bed, and the bed had chains on it, coming up from the legs and laying on the covers. I could hear music, an old vinyl record playing, skipping, playing, skipping again.

"You made me love you," a woman crooned. "I didn't want to do it."

Skip.

"You made me love you. I didn't want to do it."

Skip.

"You made me love you. I didn't want to do it."

Skip.

Then Dawn— no, she's Sunrise to me, now, and probably forever— Sunrise was standing there, holding a letterman's jacket from Sunnydale High, looking distraught.

"Someone spilled wine on it!" Sunrise said, visibly upset. "It's got wine all over it, and little herb-things. RJ will be so mad! Maybe Willow can clean it for me."

Then there was another guy there, a geeky, pudgy, little guy with dark brown hair, and big, sad eyes.

"We didn't mean it, you know." He shuddered, and said, "It was an accident. She was just supposed to be our sex toy, that's all. Then it all got out of hand… you should stop it this time. Before it gets out of hand. Before what happened to Katrina happens to her."

Then a tall, pretty brunette in a French maid's outfit stepped into the room from… a cemetery, okay. She looked at me and said, "It's rape. Maybe they don't hit you, maybe they don't hold you down— but it's rape. Remember that. Remind them. She'll need help. Because it's rape."

Then Michael was beside me again— he'd disappeared there for a minute— and we were standing on Rose's balcony, looking in at me and Rose asleep on the bed, tangled up in the sheet.

"I know that was hard for you, Elaine Marshall," Michael said to her. "An' I look at you, see you standin' there an' dealin' with the hurt… and I understand why my Emerald Rose loves you so.

"There's a hard road ahead of you, darlin'… but you've the strength, I can see it.

"And while seein' them would hurt you to much, I'd not leave you without havin' you know, Elaine… your parents? They're as proud of you as I am of my Rose— an' that's sayin' one hell of a lot."

"Thank you," I said, feeling tears on my cheeks— and seeing them on the face of my body inside. "Michael… will I remember this? All of it?"

"In stages, and as it applies," Michael said. "Remember, Elaine, most of it will need the help of your new friends to understand, and then mostly 'twill be Buffy and your Sunrise who will understand, though they will all help.

"One more thing, Elaine; there will come a time when you and Rose will both have reason to want to kill a man. When that time comes, I'd ask you to remember that the Powers That Be work in mysterious ways— and one of Their best tricks is making evil do Their work _against_ evil for them."

"I'll try to remember," I said. "I will."

"I know you will," Michael said. "Now, dear one… I'd ask you to give somethin' to my Emerald Rose for me, and just as I give it to you, that she can know where it comes from."

Michael stepped closer, put the first two fingers of his right hand under my chin, tilted my head up gently, and kissed my forehead softly.

"Just like that, if you would," he said.

"I promise," I said.

"Thank you," he said. "This one's just for you— I wish I'd known you while I lived, Elaine Marshall, for you're a good one— an' I'd give my eyeteeth to see you dance a jig!"

He kissed my cheek, hugging me with one arm while he did so— and then I sort of… fell sideways, only when I hit I didn't get jarred, or hurt— I just woke up, jerked awake, really, and saw Rose looking at me worriedly.


	18. Chapter 18

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 18

_Rose:_

I woke to find Elaine tossing and turning, and I debated waking her up— but I decided to wait a little bit, first. Then she started crying— well, not sobbing, but leaking tears— in her sleep, and I decided to go ahead and wake her. Before I could, she sort of jerked, like she'd fallen in a dream, and opened her eyes wide to look at me.

"Bad one?" I asked.

"I… don't know," she said. Then she frowned. "Yes, there was badness. And then… not so bad.

"I think I need to pee. Be right back."

When Elaine came back, I went myself, and when I came out, she was sitting on the side of the bed. She stood up, and said, "I had a Slayer dream, Rose. There were things… I can't remember the things I saw now, just that they… some of them were scary and some hurt, and… I'll remember them when I need them. That's what the person told me who walked me through it. But he sent something for you."

I blinked at that, and said, "Okay… what?"

Elaine stepped close to me, put the first two fingers of her right hand under my chin, tilted my face up a little, and kissed my forehead, very lightly.

I stood and I stared for a moment, then I said, "Daddy…?"

"Yes," Rose said. "It was your dad who… led me through the dream. And protected me from the very bad, and… and sent you that."

"Daddy," I whispered— then I hugged her tightly and said, "Thank you, Elaine!"

"You're welcome," she said. "Your dad… how did he get that scar on his neck? It looked like a shamrock, and I can't think of much better for an Irishman to wear."

"That was a piece or ornamental ironwork at his very first fire," I said. "He always said that if he had to have a scar, he'd take that one.

"God, that's… thank you, again."

"You're welcome," she said, and sat on the bed. "Back to sleep?"

"Yes," I said. I got in, pulled her in with me, and said, "Tomorrow… maybe we should call Giles and you can tell him what you do remember?"

"Or wait 'til they come over," Elaine said, sleepily.

"We'd better call," I said. "I think they may not come, unless we call."

"Then we call," Elaine said, seeming to drift off as she talked. "They're my friends, and I want all of those I can get around me right now…."

Elaine fell asleep, and I followed not long after.

Elaine and I both woke about six, and just… lay there snuggling. She didn't talk, just let me hold her, cuddle her. I decided to forsake my new habit of doing forms in the morning, knew that Sifu would understand, today of all days.

We went down to breakfast at about eight, and Jerry again did something considerate— and thus completely unlike him. He had the paper in his hands, held open to read, and when he heard us coming, he hastily shifted from reading it held open to reading it folded closed, so that the front page couldn't be seen. I caught just a glimpse of "CIRA-bound passenger plane crashes, kills 155" (CIRA being the local abbreviation for Central Illinois Regional Airport here in Bloomington) above a picture of the fire and smoke that had shot up when the plane hit the ground before he got the paper folded over, but Elaine didn't see it.

We all said good morning, and Mom asked if Elaine could eat some eggs, and how she wanted them. A couple of minutes later, she put a couple of over-medium eggs, toast, and bacon in front of Elaine, and a couple after that, a big pile of scrambled eggs, bacon and English muffins out for me.

Between us, Mom and I managed to get Elaine to eat all that she had in front of her, though I finished ten minutes before she did.

Jerry took off a few minutes before we finished, after saying a polite good-bye to all of us, and telling Elaine that there were no rules at all on what time her grandparents came by tonight, or how late they stayed. She gulped tears and thanked him, and he gave her a lawyer's version of a warm smile before he left. (This being a smile that doesn't look like he's contemplating tearing out your throat— not _right this minute,_ anyway.)

He'd barely gotten out the door before the phone rang, and Mom grabbed it.

"No, I haven't asked her," Mom said a couple of minutes later. "She's right here, would you like to speak to her?"

A moment later, she handed me the phone, and Sifu Archer said, "Hello, Rose. I called to ask you to pass along my sympathies to Elaine— I'm terribly sorry about what's happened."

"Thank you… Camden," I said, finding the strength to use the permission I'd been given to use his first name in the warmth and honesty I heard in his words. "I'll do that."

"Thank you," Camden said. "Will you be at class today?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted. "Can I call you later?"

"Of course, of course," he replied. "If you forget, don't stress over it— I'll certainly understand."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll see you when I can."

"Take care, Rose," Camden said. "And take care of Elaine."

I assured him that I would, hung up, looked at the phone, looked at Elaine, who sat staring blankly out the back window, and picked up the phone again. Mom had left Giles's phone number out next to the phone, and I dialed it quickly.

"Hello," he answered crisply on the first ring, "Rupert Giles."

"Hi, it's Rose," I said. "Um, what did you guys have planned for today?"

"Well, we're going to go and take a look at that house Willow found this morning at eleven," Giles said. "I've just spoken with the realtor."

"Okay, that's more than two hours off," I said. "Do you think… Giles, Elaine says she wants all the friends she can get around today, as much as possible. Could you guys… I hate to impose, but—"

"Nonsense," Giles said. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Giles," I said, and hung up.

True to Giles's word, the minivan full of Scooby Gang members pulled up fifteen minutes later, and they came trooping into the kitchen after Mom let them in.

Sunrise came first, and she went straight to Elaine, hugged her hard, turned that into "held her tightly" when Elaine started to cry.

"Come on," I said. "Back yard is people friendly. And you should come too, Laurie— you need to meet our friends."

I introduced Laurie to the others, going with the original explanations that I'd given Mom, Dawn a net-friend, Buffy her sister and martial arts nut, Giles, coach, Xander and Willow, Buffy's best buds. I love Laurie, and I trust her— but there are some things that you don't ask an eleven year-old to deal with, not until you have to. (Yeah, I know, there are eleven year olds who've become Slayers, and I was only fourteen. But I was old for a fourteen year-old, okay? Laurie _wasn't_ old for an eleven year-old, and I wanted to keep it that way.)

Sunrise and Elaine came out a few minutes later, and I introduced Laurie to Sunrise by saying, "Laurie, this is Buffy's sister Dawn. And if Elaine or I say Sunrise, she's who we're talking to."

"Okay," Laurie said, shaking Dawn's hand. "But I bet you'll get annoyed if I call her that, won't you, Rose?"

"A bit, maybe," I admitted.

"Okay, after seeing your sword form thing and listening to your mom talk about your test, I'm not making you annoyed," she grinned to show she was kidding, then said, "Hi, Dawn. Thanks for helping make Elaine feel better."

"Never a problem," Dawn said. "She's a friend. You do that for your friends."

"Yeah," Laurie said, looking sad. "Hate that we have to.

"You guys do your crazy martial arts stuff or whatever, I'm going to the library. Nice to meet you all, and I'll probably see you all later."

Laurie took off, Mom brought out a couple of big pitchers of lemonade, and we all sat and talked for a little bit. When she told the story of Aunt Mary and Aunt Mary's Watcher, Buffy got an "oh, yuck," look on her face.

When Mom finished, Buffy said, "Okay, wait— Phillip Carstairs. Giles was that the Phillip who came to Sunnydale for that whole review thing over the info on Glory?"

"Yes, that would've been him," Giles said.

Buffy shook her head, looked at Mom, and said, "Kelly, I am so sorry!"

Mom busted out laughing— all of us did.

Even Elaine.

_Elaine:_

Buffy made me laugh.

That surprised me, and it made me feel guilty— and then I thought, _No. Dad loved a laugh, and Mom, too. They'd like that I could laugh this soon._

That egged me into doing more.

"Buffy," I said. "I want to learn more about using a stake. Can you spare a while?"

She looked surprised, but said yes, and we spent the next hour working on stake attacks, me and Buffy one pair, Giles and Rose another. Xander, Willow and Dawn kibitzed, and Kelly sat and listened to them— and slowly, unsure at first, then more bold as the others welcomed her into the conversation, kibitzed with them.

About ten-thirty, we knocked off, and Giles said, "Rose, Elaine, would you care to join us in looking at the house we may well buy?"

"Mansion," Xander corrected. "Giles, it's got fifteen freakin' bedrooms!"

"And twenty-two bathrooms," Buffy said, sounding wistful. "I mean… that alone…."

Rose giggled a little and looked at me.

"Okay," I said. "I'd like to see a place that big. And… 'chalet mated with a castle,' I have to see that."

"Oh, the Pendergast place," Kelly said. "You're thinking of buying it?"

"If we're speaking of the same place, yes," Giles said. "I don't know the name of the former owner."

"No, it has to be the Pendergast place," Kelly said. "That's the only place in Normal— and it is in Normal, now that they've expanded the city limits again— that even might be that big. I've been there, too— and it does look an old alpine-style chalet and a castle got crossed."

"Mom, can we go?" Rose asked.

"Of course," Kelly said. "Would you all like to come back here for lunch? Please?"

Giles looked at Kelly, and I saw some sort of "grown-up telepathy" thing pass between them, then Giles said, "We'd be delighted, though I warn you, this lot eats like a taming of shrews."

"I'm used to it," Kelly said lightly. "Teenager in the house, you know."

We all piled in the van, and I got cuddled for the moderately long drive to the northwest edge of Normal. Rose sat on one side of me and Sunrise on the other, each with an arm around me. It felt wonderful, warm and… not forgetful. I didn't forget that Mom and Dad had died, or stop hurting, stop caring, stop wondering what would happen to me— but I did stop _focusing_ on those things. They still sat in my mind, still had weight— but the weight seemed _reduced_ while Rose and Sunrise held me.

We got to the house— I knew of it, though I'd never seen it— and we all made oo-ing and ah-ing noises. Xander had called this right— it wasn't a house, it was a mansion. Three vaulted stories high, sprawled across a half an acre's worth of its two and a half acre yard, made of gray stone held together with pale mortar, but with a many-gabled slate roof, a lot of visible balconies, a huge, covered patio at the front… mansion. Oh, and an attached _six-car_ garage!

And the trees! I know you don't normally get big trees around a fairly new house, and this was a fairly new house, but this place had a lot of trees around it— turns out the original owner had paid a ton extra for the contractors to work around the trees.

The real estate guy got out of his car when we pulled in, looked a little shocked at all of us young people in the company of just one older person, but hid it quickly and well.

We looked around the outside first, and I got more impressed. More trees, more balconies, a gigantic patio in the back (uncovered, this time), bordered by woods at the back. Rose said she'd counted five chimneys, and might have missed some.

Then we went inside, and the oo-ing and ah-ing got louder.

"This place is gorgeous," Buffy said. "How many rooms is it, Mr. Hanlon?"

"Fifteen bedrooms, twenty-two bathrooms," Hanlon said, then started reading from a paper he took from his pocket. "Then… basement; full laundry room, furnace room, workshop area, finished recreation room, wine cellar, spa— including a couple of Jacuzzis and a climate booth— one bathroom and four large storage rooms. First floor; kitchen, dining room, living room, study, library, parlor, one of the bedrooms, four bathrooms. Second floor; seven bedrooms, nine bathrooms, study— smaller than the one down here, but still nice— parlor and kitchenette. Third floor; seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, parlor, lounge— set up like the rec room in the basement, but smaller— secondary library and another kitchenette.

"The bedroom down here has a small, covered patio all its own, and a bathroom that would delight Paris Hilton. Of the fourteen bedrooms upstairs, eight have balconies, and each has its own bathroom."

"What's the water heater like?" Xander asked, thinking ahead.

"There are several, all very large, down in the furnace room," the realtor said. "It'd be work to run out of hot water."

"You've obviously never shared living space with a bunch of females," Xander muttered, and Willow socked him on the arm.

Xander started walking around the living room, knocking on walls, listening, and nodding approval. When we got to the kitchen— I've seen smaller kitchens in restaurants!— he looked under the sinks, checked out the stoves, the _walk-in_ refrigerator, and _walk-in_ freezer, the dishwasher, and— well, everything. He kept nodding, though, seemed impressed with how well-built and well-cared for everything was.

In the library on the first floor, Giles's eyes lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning— shelves built into every wall, complete with tracks for a rolling library ladder, and a lot of open space for either work tables or more shelves.

"Revenge of the Return of the Son of the High School Librarian," Buffy muttered on seeing his face. "He'll buy it."

We toured the whole place, and all of it was on the same grand scale, and Xander, if he ever found a building flaw, never mentioned it. He asked questions about insulation, smoke alarms, pest control, sewage, all that— and obviously liked the answers.

"If I recall correctly, Mr. Hanlon," Giles said after the tour, "you said that the house would go up for auction on June fifteenth if it wasn't bought prior to that date."

"Yes, it will," Hanlon said, carefully maintaining a poker face.

"Well, keeping in mind that my young friend here knows construction," Giles said, clapping Xander on the back, "And thus a great deal about the intrinsic value of buildings, and that I've had some time to price land itself in the area… how much is it?"

"It's… oh, hell," Mr. Hanlon said. "Okay, you're not stupid. To recover their money, the bank that holds title needs a million-two. They want a profit, of course, and they'll need to pay us. Closing costs, taxes… a moment, please, sir."

He whipped out a Blackberry, pressed a lot of buttons at rapid-fire speed, then said, "Mr. Giles, I can have the deed in your hand tomorrow for one million, six hundred and seventeen thousand, two hundred and thirty-seven dollars and eighty-three cents."

Giles didn't look around at the other Scoobies. He didn't even blink— he just nodded and said, "Write that figure down, please, Mr. Hanlon, and I'll bring you a cashier's check before three this afternoon."

There followed a whole lot of delighted shouting, squealing and hugging, which Giles bore stoically— and with a little smile.


	19. Chapter 19

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 19

_Elaine:_

We all left after Giles and Mr. Hanlon shook hands, and Giles immediately took us to Fairview Park again, since Kelly hadn't had time to really fix lunch yet. There, he had Willow email Mr. Hanlon requesting floor plans for the house, then start looking for furniture stores. Then he started talking over house stuff with Xander, things like what Xander would change if he could, and Buffy sat in on that.

While they did that, Sunrise and Rose tugged me by the hand down the hill to a little stand of trees, where we sat and talked about the house, and schools, and everything under the sun except what had happened to my parents. I didn't let on how scared I was that talking was all I'd get to do, that I wouldn't be going to school with Rose and Sunrise, because I'd be in Florida with my grandparents.

No other relatives. Grandpa had arthritis, and needed to be where it's warmer more than it is here. Grandma… she had so much wrong with her that I don't know where to start. She needed assisted living, so that there was someone to help Grandpa with her. He couldn't even get her in and out of her wheelchair himself, and she was in no shape to help. Her brain was as sharp as it ever was, no marbles missing, but her body… it was a mess.

So I was going to have to move to Florida, and I knew that, and it was killing me. But I didn't want to dump this on Rose or Sunrise, or anyone. I just wanted… I wanted the good parts of my life for as long as I could have them.

So we talked. They held my hands, or put arms around me, and we talked.

About twelve-thirty, Giles called us back up, and we all drove back to Rose's house. We went in the back door, straight to the kitchen— and this _heavenly_ smell leaped out and grabbed me, made my stomach growl and my mouth water, made me really, truly, down-deep hungry for the first time since I'd seen the news about Mom and Dad's plane.

"Mom, you made it!" Rose said, grinning and hugging her mom hard and tight. "Grandma Riley's chicken! Oh, wow— for all of us! Thanks!"

"Well, it works out," Kelly said, grinning. "Jerry's not a big chicken fan, so this way, you get your congratulations dinner, and he gets his beef or pork— I haven't thought about supper yet. And your friends get to see that your mother can cook."

"See, nothin'!" Xander said. "Kelly, I can _smell_ that you can cook!"

Kelly thanked him, told everyone to wash their hands, sent Rose upstairs after Laurie, then came over and took my hands in hers.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked. "I… last night, I couldn't even ask Rose to celebrate anything, let alone you, but… I thought today might be better."

"I don't mind at all," I said honestly, and kissed her cheek. "Kelly, that smell's making _me_ hungry, and I didn't think I'd care about food ever again. Besides, Rose deserves this."

That was one of the best meals of my life. Not just the food, which really was all that— the chicken could've put Colonel Sanders out of business in a year, the gravy, made from the chicken drippings, was great, the mashed potatoes perfect (and yes, you can mess them up), and the fresh-cut corn sweet and tasty. There was salad, and two kinds of rolls— and I ate until I felt full, which, given everything, took a bit. But it was the company as much as the food. All these people caring about me, wanting me to not hurt so much… yeah. Wonderful!

"All right," Giles said when he'd finished. "Kelly, you've destroyed an old prejudice of mine. I believe that I shall never again say that there's nothing to American cuisine. And if I do, I hope that one of you will remind me of this meal. That was marvelous, thank you."

"Oh, boy, thank you," Willow said, looking pleasantly dazed. "I've had nothing but pick-up meals and restaurant food for a while now, and then… this! I'm spoiled for normal cooking, now."

"What she said," Xander groaned. "Only I'd like to add a plea that you not do that again any time soon— I'm trying to lose weight, and that's not going to happen while there's food like that near me."

"I know," Buffy agreed. "Kelly… thank you. But wow, I feel stuffed."

"Me, too," Dawn said. "I can't believe I ate half a chicken!"

"You can't believe it?" Laurie said. "I'm half your size if I'm lucky, and I only ate a wing less than you! I'm gonna get fat."

"No, you've got a youthful metabolism, honey," Kelly said. "But there is a reason I don't make that very often, save it for special occasions. If I made it even once every two weeks, I'd have to double my exercise routine. My mom knew what she was doing when it came to cooking chicken!

"Which reminds me— ladies and gentlemen, I ask that you join me in a toast; to Rose Erin Killian, the latest Sifu in the Tiger and Leopard School of Kung Fu, and a girl who makes her mother so proud she could pop!"

We drank, and Rose blushed prettily and thanked us.

Then Kelly stood up and started to gather dishes— and Giles made a motion to her to sit down, even as Buffy, Xander, Willow and Dawn stood and started grabbing things.

"No, no, I'll get it," Kelly protested.

"Like fun!" Dawn said. "Kelly, that's the first home-cooked meal any of us have had in about forever, and you went to a lot of extra trouble for it— we're cleaning up."

"I'll help," Rose said, and started to stand.

"No, you really won't," Buffy said. "This was your congratulations dinner. You will sit. You will keep the grown-ups out of trouble. Elaine, you will enforce Rose's sitting. We will get this."

"I'll help," Laurie said. "I know where everything goes."

"Okay, that works," Willow said. "Come on, kiddo."

Kelly watched with an amazed expression as the five of them moved around in the kitchen like dancers, never quite bumping into each other. Xander and Willow took charge, supervised what the others did, and seemed to watch Buffy a bit more carefully than Dawn or Laurie.

"Let me guess," Rose said. "Buffy's not much in the kitchen? And that's why she's getting close supervision?"

"Let us merely say," Giles said softly, to keep Laurie from hearing, "that Buffy sometimes forgets that 'Slayer' does not apply to cooking and eating ware."

In half an hour, Kelly's kitchen was spotless, and she looked so pleased that I thought she might pop.

"Thank you all," she said when they'd finished. "You really didn't have to do that."

"On the reverse, you didn't have to invite us to dinner," Xander said. "So, you know— balance. Scales. Dark side, light side— no, wait, that may not apply here, Dawn didn't cook."

Dawn yelped indignantly and slapped Xander's arm.

"Seriously, Kelly— you cook, I'll clean up after it, anytime I'm allowed to eat." Xander grinned, poked Dawn in the ribs, and added, "I'll even throw in keeping Dawn, here, away from the cooking for nothing. And believe me, that's a necessity."

"Meanie," Dawn said, and hugged him.

"I call 'em like I see 'em," Xander said. "Which means I tend to call them to my right, mostly…."

We all groaned, and Xander grinned, treating the groans as applause.

We all trooped back outside (except Laurie, who went off to a friend's house for the afternoon), and just sat and talked for a while. About two, Rose glanced across the yard of the friendly dentist whose house was behind hers, then stood and called "Brian! Hey, cool!"

Brian Keller, Rose's friend who'd found the Slayer site for us, came walking down, wearing a backpack that looked to be about half his size. He grinned, gave Rose a one-armed hug, and looked around at everybody else with a puzzled expression before turning to me and saying, "Elaine… look, it's something you gotta be sick of hearing, but I'm sorry. I wish I could help."

"Being sorry helps, and I'm not sick of hearing about it, not from people who mean it," I said, and hugged him.

"Brian, you need to meet some people," Rose said when I let him go. "Oh, and I have news, too— sorry, things have been hell-hectic, and I sort of forgot to tell you something.

"Anyway— guys, this is Brian Keller, my best friend, and the guy who figured out how to find you guys so quick. He's a chess demigod, a computer semi-god, and an electronics whiz-kid.

"Brian… this is Buffy Summers, the Prime Slayer; her sister, Dawn, who is now pretty much permanently Sunrise to me and Elaine, and is a dancer and a Watcher-in-training; Rupert Giles, Buffy's Watcher and the last full-fledged Watcher; Xander Harris, half of Buffy's best friends, construction and household repair guru and master smartass; and Willow Rosenberg, the other half of Buffy's best friends, serious witch, and a computer whiz on your level."

Brian blinked a time or two, shook everyone's hands, then said, "Okay, maybe I'm being a little rude, folks, but I have a question that I have to have an answer to before I can think to be polite.

"Rose, _did you get your red sash!"_

"Um, no," Rose said, trying not to grin and failing. "That's sort of what I forgot to tell you, Bri. I didn't get my red sash— I got my red-and-blue sash!

"You may address me as Sifu Killian, young one!"

For a moment, Brian just stared at her— then he _whooped_ _"YES!_ You rock, Rose! Congrats!"

He hugged her, and Rose laughed and hugged back. Then Brian turned and looked at the Scooby Gang and said, "Now, how the heck did you guys get here so quick, and does that mean something bad for the old hometown?"

"Well, we aren't sure about that last part, yet," Buffy said. "But, yeah— we came quick because we thought we should maybe check on a place that got two Slayers, and hey— you're pretty swift on the uptake. Giles, make a Watcher out of him."

Brian grinned as Giles said, "Well, there's a bit more involved than simply being intelligent, Buffy— but I will grant you, he thinks quickly, and his concern shows that he thinks things through, even with minimal data."

"That means he likes you," Sunrise said. "But you're a computer whiz, so you'll have to work to get past his prejudice— Giles thinks progress should have stopped with books."

"No, I most emphatically do not," Giles said. "However, it could have stopped with the vinyl record."

"CDs have better sound quality," Brian pointed out. "And you don't have to keep replacing them when they wear out.

"And what have you got against computers, anyway?"

And just like that, Brian fit in, arguing good-naturedly with Giles, supported by Willow and Dawn, while I sat between Rose and Kelly and half-listened, just taking comfort in having them around me, them and my friends.

Kimber showed up about three-fifteen, got introduced around, and soon, me, her and Rose were sitting and talking with Sunrise and Willow, and Willow was offering careful, thoughtful advice about Kimber's pursuit of magic, urging her to go slow, to be aware of her own limits, and never to push to hard too fast.

"Magic works," Willow said. "Maybe it isn't working for you yet because you aren't ready, even though it sounds like you're doing the right things the right way. But more likely, Kimber, it isn't working because you don't need it to work. Not really _need,_ that deep, scary, 'this has to work or things will go horribly wrong,' need.

"When you do need it— and that's need in the eyes of the universe, not in your eyes— then I think it'll come. You have a handle on how the forces are channeled, and you believe— I can feel that belief, I know it's real, and I know it's sincere— but you don't _need_."

"Wow," Kimber said. "So… you're saying magic is sentient?"

"Yes," Willow said. "Or… at the higher levels, magic is sentient. And the higher levels of magic govern the lower levels, like the higher levels of quantum physics govern the lower levels of ordinary physics."

"I _think_ I see," Kimber said. "I think. In the meantime… just keep doing what I'm doing?"

"Yes," Willow said. "Keep believing, keep caring, keep working the spells to get your mind into the habit of controlling the forces that will someday flow through the spells. And keep being careful."

"Sweet," Kimber said softly. "Thanks, Willow."

"No problem."

The Scooby Gang and Kimber and Brian all took off about five, not long before Jerry got home— Buffy and Company had stuff to do for the house (Giles had gone off and gotten the check to the realtor, then come back), and Kimber had studying she had to do.

Supper looked easy to cook (or maybe that was just Kelly), pork chops, wild rice, peas and a salad, and I ate well enough to satisfy Rose and Kelly. After supper, Rose, Laurie and I all went outside to talk and just hang out, and Jerry seemed… pleased by that. _He_ wasn't growing on me, exactly, but his _behavior_ was, if that makes any sense. When he came out to tell me I had a phone call, he seemed pleased to see me teaching Laurie some dance steps, and when she hugged me before I went in (I guess my face showed the scared— I figured it was Grandpa, and I'd have to face him and Grandma soon), he looked almost warmly at me.

It wasn't Grandpa or Grandma, it was Mister Geldart, Dad's lawyer, wanting me to have my "nearest living relative" call him tomorrow, or as soon after as possible. I agreed kind of snappishly, and Jerry asked if I was okay before I went out. I said yes, but that the guy had been sort of an ass, and he said only, "That happens in my profession more often than it should. If you like, I can tell him you're asleep and I won't wake you, if he calls again."

"Please," I said, and he nodded before I went back out.

We came in about nine-thirty, and Grandpa called ten minutes later. He said they'd be in town about ten-thirty, and he needed to get Grandma straight to the nursing home where they were going to stay (I had no idea that nursing homes acted like hotels for the elderly who needed care when away from home, but Kelly says some of the privately owned ones do), but that he'd like to see me tonight. I said he should come over, and handed the phone to Kelly to have her give him directions.

Kelly again proved that as moms go, she was a great one. She came to find me a few minutes later, found me clinging to Rose and Laurie both, trying not to cry, and said, "I came up with a better idea, Elaine, if you're willing. I offered to take you— and Rose, I figured you'd both want that— to the nursing home, so you can see your grandma, too, and your grandpa can get himself rested sooner."

She got the "yes" from my lunge-hug-weep, I'm pretty sure. I know I couldn't have said it.

So when Grandma and Grandpa got there, I got to hug them and cry on them both, and we all got inside, and somehow it didn't hurt so much as it had a few minutes before.

The orderlies got Grandma into bed, and then I finally got around to introducing them— and I said to hell with lying, and I told the truth.

"Kelly, Rose, these are my grandparents, Edward and Margaret Morton," I said. "Grandma, Grandpa… Kelly Wentworth is Rose's mom, and she's been wonderful, her whole family has been wonderful.

"And this is Rose… my girlfriend."

Grandpa did a double take, but Grandma just smiled and held a hand out to Rose, pulled her close and kissed her cheek, and said, "I'm glad that Elaine's found someone, Rose— and that you've been such a help to her."

"I love her," Rose said. "You help the people you love… or you stop looking in the mirror."

At that, Grandpa stopped staring, went to Rose and offered her a hand, pulled her into a hug.

"Well, after a sentiment like that, I can't fault Elaine's taste in girlfriends," Grandpa said. "It's a pleasure, Rose, Kelly— and I can't thank you enough."

The visit hurt some, but… it hurt in ways that left me feeling less hurt, if you know what I mean. Grandma and Grandpa got Dad's lawyer's name and number from me, said they'd come see me at Rose's after they talked to him, and we left, let them get to bed.

Look… the next few days hurt, and they were awful, and I got through them. I'm going to skim some, here.

Tuesday, Grandma and Grandpa saw Dad's lawyer, figured out what to do about a funeral and made arrangements for that and a visitation. The visitation, due to the mess of the plane wreck, would have to be Saturday night, and the funeral on Sunday. I didn't mind, but the delay… made some of the hurt worse, I think. I can't _know,_ because I'd never experienced that, but I think it did.

Buffy and the Scooby Gang came over every day from about ten in the morning until four-thirty or five. I picked up from Willow that Kelly had told Giles that she didn't want Jerry to know about "the weird part of Rose's life, not yet." Since Jerry was a lawyer, and a good one, he'd never buy the explanation about net friends and convenient timing— Grandma and Grandpa did, but I think that's only because of the hurt, and how distracting it was.

I found myself making love with Rose at the drop of a hat. I was so afraid I'd have to leave her soon that I made love to her more often and more eagerly than I might have otherwise, even with "new lover syndrome." I wanted as much memory of being with her as I could make to take with me when it came down to having to leave.

I never noticed that no one ever brought that up, not Rose, not Kelly, not even Grandpa and Grandma. I just… never saw the good coming.

Jerry, on hearing Tuesday night that the funeral and visitation were to be over the weekend, made a growling noise, then said, "Elaine, I'm sorry, but I can't possibly be there. I'd like to— I know, we aren't close, but you are close with Kelly and Rose, and getting that way with Laurie— but I can't. There's a required seminar for criminal lawyers in Illinois up in Chicago, starts Friday afternoon, ends Monday night. I have to attend, or I have to suspend my practice, and that… I can't do."

"It's okay," I said, not minding, but liking that he did. "It's your job, I get it. And you've probably got trials and stuff, soon."

"A rather large one, starts on Tuesday," Jerry said. "I'm sorry. I can't miss this."

"No, it's okay," I said. "You've been wonderful enough, I can't ask you to bail on your job, not when people rely on you."

Rose seemed kind of relieved that he wouldn't be around, and I really didn't care. Which left me feeling _really_ guilty on Friday morning.

After breakfast Friday, Jerry set aside his paper, and didn't get up to leave. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, a little awkwardly, "Elaine… there's something… well, I want to put an idea to you for your approval."

"All right," I said, glancing at Rose and getting a little "no clue" shrug from her. "What's the idea?"

"You've been here long enough that I have seen how close you and Rose are," Jerry said. "I've seen your closeness with Kelly, seen that get deeper. I've watched you with Laurie, seen how much she loves you. And I like you. I'm not going to tell you I love you— not yet. But I like you.

"As for Rose… well, we didn't discuss this with her, we knew her feelings without asking.

"Kelly, Laurie and I talked some last night, and Kelly and I have spoken to your grandparents, and they agree that it might be best, because it would leave you happy….

"You've lost a lot, Elaine. And we feel that there's no need for you to lose more— friends, Rose, the town you've lived in your whole life… you don't have to lose these things."

I blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

"Elaine… if you're willing," Jerry said, slowly, "we'd like you to stay here with us. Kelly will be your legal guardian, defaulting to me or your grandparents at your choice if something were to— god forbid!— happen to her."

"You… I could… stay?" I asked, stunned. "Live here? With you guys?"

"That's what we'd like," Kelly said softly. "We'd like you to be a part of our family."

"YES!" I yelled, and ran to hug her, even as Rose, for the very first time in her life, went around to hug Jerry (who looked stunned himself, and returned the hug a little clumsily).

Then we swapped hug partners, and I have to give him credit for trying— but Jerry didn't seem to be a really physical person, so it was a tentative hug. Then I hugged Laurie, and then I said again, "Yes! Please, yes! I mean— are you sure?"

"There would be a single change," Jerry said. "But not until the school year would it actually be mandatory.

"If you stay, you will have your own room— and on school nights, you sleep there, alone. Non-school nights, if you and Rose want to… stay together, that's fine. And the rule about locked doors during intimacy stays in place no matter which room you're in."

"Yes, all right, that's— that's fine, I don't mind!" I babbled. "You're sure Grandma and Grandpa are okay with it?"

"They are," Kelly said. "Someone at Jerry's office prepared the papers, and they've already signed them. All that's left to do is to file them."

"And, since you've said yes, I'll take care of that this morning, before I leave for Chicago," Jerry said. "All right?"

"Yes!" I said. "God, yes! Thank you! Thank you all!"

Jerry smiled, said, "That's settled, then. If I'm going to get the papers on file before I have to be at the airport, I'd better go."

He kissed Kelly, let me and Rose each hug him again, hugged Laurie, and took off.

As soon as he was gone, I sat down, grabbed hold of Rose— and cried in sheer relief.


	20. Chapter 20

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 20

_Rose:_

Okay, I admit it— I hugged Satan's Lawyer.

Look, that shocked the hell out of me. Him not just saying Elaine could stay but actually inviting her himself? I felt like I'd just been hit by a charging rhinoceros. So I hugged him. He was decent about it, tried to hug back— but only tried.

I hadn't been stressing losing Elaine— Giles had a plan, which he never had to enact— but he'd told me about it, catching me alone for a couple on Tuesday. He intended to set up a "very exclusive" boarding school as cover for teaching some of the younger Slayers— and was going to offer every "student" a full scholarship, tuition and fees. He felt sure that including Elaine would get her grandparents to let her stay, and, knowing how worried they were about taking care of her properly without interfering with caring for Margaret, I agreed. Then _this!_ I wasn't surprised to find that it had been Mom's idea, and that Laurie had hopped on board immediately— but Jerry agreeing easily, and inviting her himself?

Yeah. That metaphorical rhino I mentioned didn't just charge into me, he then proceeded to tap dance on my head for a while.

Once Jerry had gone, Elaine grabbed of me and burst into tears— and a second later, Mom and Laurie had flanked us, grabbed hold of each of us. We made a big, weepy huddle for a while, then just a big clingy huddle, but broke up when someone knocked on the back door.

"That will be Giles and company," Mom said, getting up. "Come on girls— let's tell them the news."

"Giles, I get to stay!" Elaine said, leaping over and hugging him. Giles was shocked, but he hugged back much better than Jerry had— you could see that he _meant_ his hug. "I get to stay here, live with Rose and Kelly and Laurie and Jerry! They asked my grandparents, and I GET TO STAY!"

She let go of Giles, grabbed Buffy, hugged her, still babbling. Then she grabbed Xander, waltzed him around the room for a moment, hugged him, grabbed Willow, jumped up and down while hugging her.

Finally, Elaine grabbed hold of Sunrise in one of those hugs that says more than any normal hug, turned in a slow circle with her, kissed both cheeks, and said again, "I get to stay!"

"Well, that's a bit of a relief," Giles said. "That means that I get a reasonable amount of time to get some teachers certified, and get the Giles Academy for Young Ladies licensed and opened."

Elaine (still holding on to Sunrise, and pulling me into the hug with them) turned to look at him and said, "Huh? 'Giles Academy?' What's that?"

"It's the school I'm going to run," Giles said. "A boarding school. I fully expected you to be my first student— full scholarship, of course, tuition and fees. I feel reasonably sure that your grandparents would have agreed, thus allowing you to stay here with Rose— and I think that 'with Dawn' applies almost as much."

Elaine left me and Sunrise to hug each other, launched herself at Giles in a second, tighter hug. He hugged back and said, "Ssh, now. It's all right, Elaine. It's all fixed."

"But you were willing to— god, Giles, it's no wonder the Scoobies love you so much!" Elaine said, and kissed his cheek while he blushed.

Really, it was _cute!_

_Interlude:_

"Judas fucking _goat_ but I don't believe this!" Jerry snarled. "You're telling me that the reason I'm being sent to this joke of a seminar is because those assholes in Divinations can't get their shit straight!"

"No, Mr. Wentworth," said the legal assistant they'd sent to explain what was really going on to him. "You're being sent to a three-plus day vacation to Las Vegas with a cover story of a law seminar in Chicago, and that's due to the… _beings_ in Divinations working in the LA and New York Branches— and our branch being in Bloomington, rather than its sister city."

"I'm not seeing a connection," Jerry groused, very mollified by the prospect of a Vegas vacation on the company's credit.

"It's simple, sir," the young man said. "The people in Divinations said there was a sixty percent chance of Buffy and her support network going to Europe for a vacation, Mr. Wentworth, and the remaining forty percent split between the Hellmouth in Cleveland and returning to normal. Sir, because our offices are in Bloomington, and the beings in Divinations probably never looked at a map of this area in their lives, they had no clue that they should be putting a capital 'N' on Normal.

"Rupert Giles has bought a mansion in Normal, and one must assume that, after Elaine Marshall's parents are properly buried, he and his group will return to the location where they left the other trained Slayers, then, once that end of things is straightened out…."

"Then she'll return to _Normal,"_ Jerry said, and groaned aloud. "Are you telling me that there's going to be a mansion full of Slayers in this area? Seriously?"

"Sadly, it looks that way, sir," the legal assistant said.

"Crap," Jerry said. "I hope the higher-ups have a plan for handling this— or I'm going to be afraid of entering my own home!"

"I'm sure that they have a plan, sir," the young man said. "They always do."

"Yes," Jerry said, and he visibly relaxed. "They always do."

_Rose:_

Elaine's grandparents showed up about ten-thirty, and, after Xander and Giles had helped Margaret into her wheelchair, we all left them and Elaine alone in the living room for a while. When I walked out, she had her face buried in her grandpa's chest, and was saying, "Thank you, I love you," over and over.

They sat inside alone for a half an hour or so, then came out and joined us all in the back yard. When they actually came outside, Buffy and I were sparring, going at it with the usual energy and delight— and they sat down to watch.

Buffy and I cranked it up a little, wanting to show off, and it got fast and furious. She kept herself at around my level, didn't fight at the top of her game. That let me show off some, and I grinned a thank you at her.

We wrapped it up in five minutes or so, not wanting to let on that we could have kept going easily in front of those not in the know, and Edward (I'd been told to call both of Elaine's grandparents by their first names) whistled in appreciation as we stopped.

"I haven't seen fighting like that since the last time I couldn't sleep," Edward said. "I got up and channel-surfed for a while, ended up watching Enter the Dragon on cable, and you two are good enough to make me think of that."

"Whoa, compared to Saint Bruce," I said, grinning. "No higher praise— thanks, Edward."

"Yes, I suppose that we don't have to worry about you and Elaine being mugged while you're out on a date," Margaret said, giving me a smile. "Unless we should worry about the poor mugger."

They stayed for lunch, which Mom let me help with, and then they granddaughter-napped Elaine for the afternoon, which I thought was probably a good idea— she needed time with them, to thank them for letting her stay, and maybe to heal some more. The next evening's visitation would be hard on her, and I knew it.

Saturday, Elaine was… quiet. I didn't push, just… stayed within arm's reach, you know? Tried to be available for hugging or holding, but not to force it on her. She hugged me lots, and Mom and Laurie. When Sunrise and the others came by after lunch, hugs abounded, and after a while, me, Sunrise and Elaine all went up to my room and cuddled together on the bed, Elaine in the middle. Much less sexual than when Kimber and I had cuddled her, but that felt just fine— Elaine needed it that way, right then.

They all took off about three, to get fed and prepared for the visitation, which started at six and ran until nine.

Mom and I cajoled Elaine into eating something, then she and I went and showered. We showered together, but never got sexy— big lack of surprise there. We dressed, Elaine in this deep, somber, navy blue dress that she'd gotten from home— her grandparents had taken her there to get some things earlier in the week, and I'd stayed behind, not wanting to intrude, then held Elaine while she cried for almost an hour when they got back. I wore a dark grey dress, and heels that almost made me five feet tall.

That was a nasty night. Not harsh-nasty, just… low-grade-pervading-nasty. Seeing Elaine hurt so much, having nothing to swing at or kick at to make the hurt stop for most of the visitation… I hated it.

She held it together without crying for the first twenty minutes or so— mostly people from her parents' jobs, for that first little while. Then this gorgeous, slender, tightly-toned woman with short brown hair and dark, soulful, blue eyes stepped in front of Elaine— and Elaine let out a choked little sob even as she reached to hug the woman.

They clung together for a few minutes, stepped back out of the reception line, and I moved with, since I was only in the line to be there for Elaine. After a little bit, Elaine got herself under control, and pulled me over, putting an arm around my waist without letting go of the woman.

"Rose, I'd like you to meet Tandy Sorenson, my dance teacher," Elaine said, sniffling. "Miss Sorenson, this is Rose Killian, my girlfriend."

"Rose, it's a pleasure to meet you," Miss Sorenson said, and clasped my right hand in her left, since she hadn't let go of Elaine. "As I understand it, you and your family are the reason I'm not losing my favorite student— for that, I owe you."

"No," I said. "I've seen Elaine dance, Miss Sorenson— any debt is paid, just for that."

"Tandy, please," she said, smiling her thanks. "Both of you— though you'll have to condition yourself not to say it in class, Elaine."

She talked a minute or two more, then moved off, let Elaine get back in line after giving us her phone number, so Elaine could call her when she was ready to dance her final exam.

I noticed a pattern that irked me pretty quickly. When it came to people from her school, the majority of those who came were faculty. Almost all of them were wonderful (her principal seemed sort of… put off by her introducing me as her girlfriend, but he still seemed worried about her, so I forgave him that), honest in their expressions of sympathy, and in their happiness that Elaine wouldn't have to leave their school (that had already been agreed on by Edward and Margaret, Elaine would continue at Winston), and she cried on several of them— I realized that these really were good people.

But aside from Kimber, only three other students showed up, and none of those three affected Elaine like the faculty did. They mouthed their sympathies and moved right on. People our age are idiots, mostly, I guess.

Of _our_ friends… well I felt proud to _have_ our friends. The entire Scooby Gang was there from beginning to end, and they occasionally pulled us away from the receiving line, made Elaine take a break. Brian showed up early, stayed until the end, and Elaine got weepy when he showed up, telling me she really had come to care about him.

And Sifu— Camden— came, with Sensei Yashida as well, both dressed in somber suits, and looking honestly sad. They stayed a while, talking earnestly with Giles off in a corner.

Then came the guy that I physically threw out.

About eight, this guy who smelled of lawyer— you live with one long enough, you learn to smell them— popped up in front of Elaine, and said, "Miss Marshall, I'm David Potts. I'd like to express my condolences on behalf of Delta Airlines, and… well, I need to speak with you sometime soon. Perhaps tomorrow, after the funeral?"

"No," Elaine said, her voice gone flinty, and somehow watery at the same time. "You want to speak to me, you can damned well wait until I've had a chance to get over the funeral, and you can do it with my lawyer present."

"Now there's no need to be hostile," Potts said. "Delta Airlines is in no way at fault f—"

"I thought the FAA was still investigating?" I said. "Never mind— goodbye, Mr. Potts."

"Really, I need to—" Potts started.

"You need to leave," I said. I stepped forward, gave him my sweetest smile as I moved between him and Elaine. "Right. Now."

He put his hands on me— or tried to.

He reached for my shoulders to move me aside, out from between him and Elaine, and I gave my reflexes free rein with a sense of relief— here was something to fight, to _make_ stop hurting Elaine, and the savage joy I felt over that came as a delight.

I snapped off a double circle block, my wrists sweeping up and out, clearing his hands away from my shoulders before they ever touched me. He gasped, then reached out to grab my left arm with his right hand. I let him, gave him the grip, just moving my arm so that he grabbed right below the elbow instead of just above it. Then I ducked a little (sometimes, short can be useful), walked under his right arm, felt him grip harder in an effort to stop me, and just kept walking until his grip slipped. I immediately grabbed his right wrist in my right hand, stepping behind him and twisting his arm as I did so. My left hand caught his right elbow, and I pulled his arm out straight, levering down on his elbow even as I pulled up on his wrist, digging my thumb into the sensitive tendons on the back of his hand to bend his hand sharply— too sharply for comfort, by far— at the wrist.

Potts bent sharply at the waist, sputtering and swearing, trying to escape the twin pains at wrist and elbow.

"Walk towards the door and shut your mouth," I said calmly. "Do it, Mr. Potts— or I break something."

"I'll have you arrested, you little—"

I lifted hard on his wrist, pushed more tightly on his elbow.

"Not playing, ass-goblin," I said quietly. "I. Will. Break. It. Now, walk."

He walked, and I marched him down the funeral home's sidewalk to the public sidewalk before giving him a shove and letting go. He turned around and took a step towards me, and I heard Giles's cultured tones behind me.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Giles said. "She's a ranked kung fu instructor, you ponce— and if you reach for her, I'm quite sure that she will hospitalize you.

"Of course, if she doesn't, I will."

"Get out," I said calmly. "Stay away from the funeral tomorrow, and stay away from Elaine forever. Talk to her lawyer, if you have something to say. Her lawyer's Mr. Geldart, of Geldart, Thomas, Finch and Owens."

"Bitch," Potts muttered, and Giles stepped towards him— and I heard other people move, too.

Without looking around, I said, "That's _Miss Bitch_ to you, ass-face.

"Now get the hell out of here before I call a cop— and the local news people."

He left, walking towards the parking garage a block or so off, and I turned around to see the whole Scooby Gang, my Mom, Edward, Elaine (between Mom and Edward, both with an arm around her), Brian, Tandy, Kimber, Laurie, Sifu, Sensei Yashida and the funeral director— all looking pleased, even the funeral guy.

"You go, Rose!" Xander said. "Calling the local news— that probably scared him more than the cops."

Elaine stepped forward, hugged me hard and kissed me briefly, not saying a word— and not having to.

The look in her eyes was enough.

_Elaine:_

With the exception of the guy from Delta, the visitation wasn't so horrible as I'd thought it would be, and Rose took care of him in her appropriately painful way— god, I loved her for that!

After asking Kelly the day before (and getting immediate, unquestioning permission), I'd asked Kimber to stay the night after the visitation, and she'd agreed immediately. She had stuff with her for the next day, and stuck with us through the little meeting to discuss how things would go the next day, the little instructions for funeral processions and other etiquette. The Scoobies stayed, too, at my insistence, and Grandma and Grandpa didn't object— they'd seen the way these people went out of their way for me, and approved from the start.

We finished the "briefing," and after we got Grandma in the car and they drove off, I hugged everyone goodbye, wept some, then got in Kelly's Mercedes with Kimber on one side and Rose on the other, Laurie sitting in the front seat with Kelly so we three could share the back.

After a while, we all went to bed, Kelly and Laurie both going downstairs, as Laurie felt a need to be cuddled— all of this had brought back the death of her own mother, and she needed comfort.

So there was no one to hear any excess noise that Rose, Kimber and I made when we made love.

I didn't really mean for it to happen that night, but I'm glad it did. I needed loved, and… and Rose and Kimber were the perfect people to love me the way I needed.

Watching Rose and Kimber… I felt not one drop of jealousy. Seeing how eagerly Rose gave herself to Kimber, almost-but-not-quite as eagerly and totally as she gave herself to me… god, I still get horny thinking about that. Watching as Kimber took my Rose, didn't ask, just took her, like I would— it made me crazy, in a very good way.

None of us seemed to be able to get enough of the other two. Sometimes one would rest and watch the other two make love, but usually all three of us were involved somehow. We kept going until far too late, but it was… I needed it. That's all. I just needed it.

Finally, we went to bed, and we slept until almost nine— given that it was almost three when we went to sleep, I guess that shouldn't be surprising.

The funeral sucked. No other word can express it. Hurt doesn't touch it, painful isn't close, and maddening only brushes against how bad it was. There was no preacher, at least— Mom and dad both refused to go to church, and Grandpa and Grandpa, while religious themselves, respected that. Instead, Mr. Gulliver, Daddy's best friend, and Mrs. Stephens, Mom's best friend, each spoke for a couple of minutes.

They both did a really, really good job of summing up my parents, expressing who Mom and Dad were without making them seem like saints or anything— and that's part of why it hurt so damned much. Hearing all that, being reminded of how much good they had in them, how much they'd given me from that good… it tore me apart.

But Rose, Kelly, Kimber, Sunrise, Laurie— they handled the main job of putting me back together really, really well, and Buffy, Giles, Willow, Xander and Brian were always there to take their places if they needed to do something else for a minute.

I survived because of my friends— my family, as of then. My grandparents were my blood family— but these people were all my family, too.

If not for them, I'd never have made it through that awful day.

As it was, I did make it. I was able to hang on, to help my grandparents, let them help me. I lived through it, and I came out the other side wanting to be alive.

God, I hope everyone who needs them has friends— family!— like mine.

Grandma and Grandpa left Monday. Rose and I got up early and Kelly took us to the nursing home to say goodbye. They cried, I cried— but we all felt better.

Then Kelly took me to my house, where the Scooby Gang met us, and we packed up my room. Everything. Bed, desk, chair, bureau, everything. Bookshelves, books, clothes, pictures, posters, CDs, stereo… it all went to Rose's with me, and, before noon, my room there— right across from Rose's room— was as nearly like my room at the one at my former home as we could make it. (Three people with super-strength and a witch who can levitate things makes for a FAST move! Then add Giles's ability to organize and Xander's expertise with disassembly and reassembly, and all-of-the-sudden, it's like having the Justice League of America as moving crew.)

Kelly bought pizza for everyone for lunch, and in the afternoon, we went to what Xander was already calling "Scooby Mansion," and we set up all the furniture that had been delivered. Giles had paid for it all to be assembled, but it still had to be placed where they wanted it, which meant some moving.

He'd gone all out, or they had, I guess. The place looked like a model home after we were done, with all the gorgeous furniture in those spacious, gorgeous rooms.

Then Giles, Xander and Buffy got ready to fly back to California, to start organizing the other Slayers and Watcher-types. (There were two more besides Dawn, one injured but recovering, the thirty-ish son of a former Slayer, and a guy named Andrew who no one seemed to totally trust not to do something stupid.) Willow and Sunrise were staying to finish up the house— they had phone, but the cable people hadn't come out yet, and there were some decorating things to be finished up.

"We'll bring Kennedy with us when we come back this way," Buffy assured Willow as they hugged before separating. "Promise— otherwise, she'll kill someone."

"It's a risk," Willow admitted. "We'll be here when you get back. Hug everybody for me. Except Andrew. But pat him on the head for me. Or something."

They all hugged goodbye— and right before they left to go to the airport (we said goodbye at the mansion, Giles being too considerate to ask me to go near an airport right then), Giles raised a finger and said, "Oh, yes— I almost forgot." He rooted in a pocket for a moment, came up with two keys and two slips of paper, which he handed to me and Rose.

"What're these?" Rose asked.

"Your keys to the house," Giles said, "and the code number for the security system, and the all-clear word to identify you as allowed to be here should something go wrong, and the monitoring company have to call."

"We… keys?" I said, amazed.

"You two are a part of the family," Giles said. "It only seems logical to give you keys to a place that is as much your home as it is ours."

I don't know why that man says things that make us hug him so often, as much as it makes him blush and get all flustered.

They left, and Kelly took us home. Once there, she sat and stared around the kitchen for a moment, then said, "I almost wish Jerry weren't coming back. Yet."

Rose gaped for a moment, then said, "Uh, is everything all right, Mom?"

"Yes, fine," Kelly said a little shortly. "I'm just— out of sorts. I like having your friends here, not having to hide them, and what they are. So… childish thinking rears its head, and I blame Jerry."

She shook herself, said, "So— you two want a ride downtown, or will you take the bus? Or walk?"

"I think we'll walk," Rose said. "Good exercise."

"All right," Kelly said. "I'll have supper ready when you get home— you'd better take the bus home."

"Yes, Mom," Rose said, and we went upstairs to get ready for our martial arts lessons, delayed a little by circumstance, but now about to start. Sensei Yashida had brought my gi by on Sunday, so I packed it in a sports bag— he'd assured me that he had good-sized locker rooms— and Rose and I and our bags headed for downtown and our respective schools.

It was a long walk, but a nice one. We didn't talk much, just… strolled along, holding hands. She kissed me goodbye at the door to Sensei Yashida's school, and went the half-block to Sifu Archer's school, agreeing with me that whichever finished first would come wait for the other one.

I changed after saying hello to Sensei, and one of the other girls showed me how to put the gi on right, and how to tie my (white) belt. I went out, and Sensei promptly led me upstairs to the studio where he gave private lessons.

"Is it really necessary to give me private lessons, Sensei?" I asked.

"I think so, yes," he said. "Remember, Elaine— you have gifts that the others do not. You will almost certainly learn at an accelerated rate, and it would be best to keep that quiet."

"Oh," I said, blinking. "Wow, you've thought this out better than I have."

"It is a teacher's duty," he said, smiling. "Now… let us begin with seeing if you know how to fall…."

Two hours later, I had mastered falling, the basic punches and kicks, and learned my first three katas— like Rose's forms, practice exercises.

"I did right," Sensei said. "You are learning at astonishing speed. Well done, Elaine."

We bowed, I thanked him, and went to shower. Rose was waiting for me when I came out, and we took off, caught the bus for home.

Jerry was there, looking a little tired, but in good spirits. Kelly still seemed a bit grouchy, but we ignored that, complimented the supper she served (which deserved it), then went outside to goof off with Laurie for a while. I taught her more dancing, we all talked— it was nice, homey and relaxing.

Tuesday morning, Kelly still seemed a bit grouchy, and Jerry did, too. I wondered if they'd fought, but left it alone.

Once Jerry had left for court— today was the first day of his big trial, defending a college boy from Peoria against charges of raping a girl who went to Normal Community High School— Kelly lightened up, and seemed much better. I could see that Rose had noticed, but she kept her mouth shut, so I did, too.

We helped clean up after breakfast, finished just before Sunrise and Willow showed up— which is when I decided to do something I'd been thinking about doing.

"Kelly?" I said tentatively. "You… you've said you'd like to see me dance. I need to work on my exam dance some. Would you all like to watch?"

Kelly broke into a wide grin, nodded, and said, "Elaine, change, grab your music and the portable stereo I saw yesterday."

I did so, then we went to the ground floor, then down to a basement that I hadn't even known existed from there. Kelly led us to a room in the back, and flung open the door with a flourish.

Raised hardwood floor, "sprung" to have give for health and safety. Mirrored wall. And a _barre!_

"How did you— you couldn't have done that since— how!" I sputtered.

"People that lived here before us had a daughter into ballet," Rose said. "I'd forgotten this, but Mom remembered, brought me down and showed it to me after she decided she wanted to see you dance. Then she made me promise to let her surprise you with it."

"My god, it worked!" I said, and hugged Kelly, then Rose. Then I said to heck with it, and hugged everyone.

I stretched while the others got situated in some folding chairs that Kelly found somewhere. Then I put in my CD, cued it to the right songs, and said, "Okay, Rose, start me… now."

I danced. I strutted, I spun, I jumped, and I flung myself around, chased that perfect dance I saw in my head— and I very nearly caught it. I did it twice, no breaks, not even remembering that I had an audience, other than to ask Rose to start me again.

After the second repeat, I decided to think through my two trouble spots— and remembered that I had an audience.

Rose sat staring in open-mouthed amazement, and Laurie with her. Willow sat grinning and shaking her head in admiration. Sunrise just… beamed at me.

And Kelly sat there with a blissed-out look, one of those little smiles that you see from people who love music when they hear their favorite song performed just exactly right.

"Elaine . . ." Kelly said, "that was _beautiful!"_

"It's not quite right, I—"

"Hush!" Kelly said. "I think I know what you mean, Elaine, I saw the two spots that don't quite work— but they don't detract from what you've done, honey! You _created_ that! You choreographed it, you danced it— and I, for one, feel privileged to have seen it!"

"Me, too!" Rose said. "God, Elaine that was— I love you!"

"Yeah," Dawn said. "Yeah, me too. Both, even! Privileged and love you!"

"You're not leaving me out!" Willow said. "That was amazing!"

"And she's teaching me to dance," Laurie said. "Damn, I lucked out twice in the sister department!"

That got Laurie hugged very tightly— love that girl— and that led to hugging everyone. Then I turned to Sunrise.

"You practically read my mind that day we went to the park," I said. "You danced right with me, went where I was going, led where I wanted to go— so, got any thoughts?"

She did. We went to my first trouble spot, and she showed me a way to fix it— just reverse the direction I was spinning, and everything flowed perfectly from there. The second one though, was stubborn.

After watching a couple of things that didn't work, Rose said, "Um, no dancer, here— but I've got an idea…."

"Tell me," I said. "Or show me, whichever."

Rose did a decent version of the three steps before the trouble spot— I could make a dancer of her, I could!— then, instead of the kick-to-pirouette I'd been doing, she did a martial-arts looking kick that pulled her into a spin… and it worked, I could see it working.

"Teach me that, please!" I said.

Five minutes later, I had the move down pat. I worked that spot for a few, then went back and worked the spot that Sunrise had helped me fix— then I did it all from the top.

When I finished, they all five applauded and cheered, and Willow cut loose with one of those piercing, fingers-in-the-mouth whistles.

I did it again, and it felt… right.

"Well, there's one more A for you," Kelly said. "Rose… GR time?"

"Heck, yes!" Rose said. "You done, Elaine?"

"For now," I panted. "But I need to do this every day until I do it for Tandy."

"_So_ not a problem," Kelly said, leading the way upstairs. Rose peeled off on the lower floor, went to the garage, came up a minute later with a six-pack of bottled soda in her hand.

It was a soda called Green River, and after one sip, I loved it. Rose waxed eloquent about it for a few minutes, and Willow said, "Where do you buy it around here? I want some!"

A perfect day, really.

Wednesday started off the same way— Kelly and Jerry both sniping at each other over breakfast, even more than the day before, tension levels dropping once he'd left. Sunrise took a bus over, as Willow was waiting for the cable company, I danced some, Kelly went to the local little theater in the afternoon to work on some posters and press stuff for them. About four, she came back and started supper, we went to martial arts, and Sunrise took off for the day, saying that, if the cable people had the internet up, she had a lot to do, helping Willow with the site.

Jerry was quiet when we got home, seemingly trying to avoid a fight. Kelly was still all… prickly, but trying to be civilized.

"Thank god I don't have to go to court tomorrow," Jerry said. "My client has some sort of stomach flu— he was ill in the courtroom— and the judge declared recess until Friday. I should be able to wrap it up Friday morning, maybe in the afternoon, if the prosecutor gets stubborn.

"So… girls, why don't the three of you go see a movie? It's the first Wednesday of the month, so Kelly and I would like the night to ourselves."

"Good idea," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "We'll check online, see what's playing."

Jerry handed Rose some money for tickets, and Laurie and I followed her upstairs. While Rose navigated to the page run by the local paper for entertainment stuff, I asked, "What's so special about the first Wednesday of the month?"

"Oh, it's their night to get all intense about each other," Rose said. "They've been doing it since they started dating. One night a month, same night every month, no kids, no parties, no work, no distractions, no exceptions. I have to admit, it seems to work— Mom's always in a much better mood after their 'one night,' and that means Jerry is, too."

I nodded, thinking that it was a lot like my parents own thing of if they went somewhere alone, I didn't complain, beg to come along, anything. Then, after they'd done that, they'd each take me somewhere alone, to make up for it. It had been… great.

We found out that the Normal Theater (kind of an "art house" type of place) was running Ladyhawke, an old fantasy film from the eighties, and we decided to go see that.

After supper, as we were getting ready to go, Sunrise called, excited, and asked for me.

"Buffy, Giles and Xander will be back tomorrow," she said. "And they're bringing a trio of Slayers with them! Um, I probably shouldn't sound so excited, these are some girls who need… extra attention. They aren't… well, one's blind, one's from an abusive home, and the other… Elaine, I hate to— look, you may be able to help her, okay? In ways that none of the rest of us can."

"What happened?" I asked, my face feeling sort of numb.

"Her mom… they were in a car wreck right after Sara got the power," Sunrise said. "Her mom didn't make it, and her dad died before she was even born."

"I… hope I can help her, then," I said. I shook myself. "I'll certainly try. When are they coming in?"

"About one," Sunrise said. "So we'll come to your place in the morning, if that's cool, then leave from there to pick them up."

"I imagine that will be fine," I said. "Hey, you done for the day?"

"Pretty much, yeah," she said. "What's up?"

"Me, Rose and Laurie are gonna go see a movie in Normal, some old fantasy movie called Ladyhawke. You guys could meet us there." Rose nodded and gave me a thumbs up. "Ask Wil before we hang up?"

Sunrise covered the mouthpiece, I heard conversation, then she came back on and said, "We'll meet you there, and give you a ride home after. Cool?"

"Very cool," I said. "See you there."

We went, we saw the movie— very cool— and we went out for ice cream after. Great evening. Willow took us home about eleven-thirty, and we went around back, snuck in, and went upstairs. After hugging Laurie, Rose and I went to bed, talked for a while, cuddled up, and went to sleep.

The next day, everything fell apart again— maybe worse than before.


	21. Chapter 21

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 21

_Rose:_

Elaine and I got up the next morning at six, and went outside to work on our martial arts stuff. I got wowed at how much she'd learned already, but really… I'd started learning at the same rate, almost. Not quite as fast, but then I'd reached a level where the moves were more complex.

When we went in for breakfast, Mom was doing her usual first-Thursday-of-the-month-song-and-dance routine, singing and dancing around while she made breakfast. I had no idea what she and Jerry did on the first Wednesday of the month, but I had to admit that it left her in a great mood every time.

When she kissed Jerry goodbye before he left for work, it almost made me want to tell them to get a room— but we'd been getting along, so I bit my tongue.

Willow and Sunrise came over, and we all trooped downstairs to watch Elaine dance— even though we'd seen it before, we felt no sense of same-old-same-old. She was just that good, and getting better, more seamless.

Afterwards, Mom cut loose with a big old yawn, and said, "Oh, my. I think I'll do the dishes, then take a nap. We were up too late."

"No way, lady," I said, hugging her. "We'll get the dishes. You nap now."

"No, that's okay," Mom said, stifling a second yawn. "I'll—"

"You'll go nap," Elaine said firmly. "Go on. We'll get the dishes before lunch, Kelly— promise."

Mom let herself be convinced, hugged all five of us, and danced-slash-glided off to hers and Jerry's room to nap.

"Okay," Elaine said. "I'm going to go grab a fast shower and change— don't start the cleanup without me, now!"

"Promise!" I said, and kissed her.

The four of us sat in the living room and talked while she showered, then we all five went to work on the kitchen. Mom had done her usual first-Thursday super-breakfast— mini-waffles (homemade), eggs, bacon and sausage, fresh-squeezed juice, hash browns— the whole nine yards. Elaine and I started clearing the table while Willow started dishwater, and Dawn started moving stuff off of the stove. Laurie started taking apart the juicer, making faces over the sticky mess that covered it.

Dawn picked up Mom and Jerry's monogrammed, his-and-her wineglasses from the night before to make room for other stuff as Elaine and I put down the first load of plates and utensils, and she looked into mom's and said, "I guess your mom likes spiced wine, Rose or— oh, that must have been a bad bottle."

I looked at the glass, saw the few flakes of herbs in it, and the few flakes of something shiny, maybe metallic, that were in the maybe a half a tablespoon of wine in the bottom of the glass.

"Yeah, leaves and shiny things in your wine, probably not good," I agreed— and saw Elaine stiffen, go pale.

"Elaine, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Don't dump that glass!" Elaine said in a low, urgent voice. Then she looked at Sunrise, and said, "Remember that Slayer dream I didn't remember?"

"Sure, why?" Sunrise said.

"Who's RJ?" Elaine asked. "And what was special about his jacket that you'd freak of spilling something— like, say, wine with herbs in it— on it?"

"RJ was… he had this jacket that he inherited from his dad," Dawn said, blushing. "It made girls fall in love with him. Worked on me, Buffy, Anya— Xander's old girlfriend, the one who died in Sunnydale— even Willow, and she's gay."

" 'You made me love you,' " Elaine almost-sang. " 'I didn't want to do it….' That lyric, over and over. And the chains on the bed…. Kelly's bed. Her and Jerry's bed."

"Crap," Willow said, and reached for the glass. "Let me see that."

She took the glass, poured it out over a paper towel, looked at the sediment that got left behind. A few flakes of some herbs, and a few tiny, tiny beads that, while shiny, weren't metallic— they looked like super-tiny pearls.

"Oh, no," Willow said. Then she held her hand over the paper towel, said, _"Aperio substantia,"_ in a commanding voice – and her hand glowed a dull red for a long moment.

After a moment, Willow's hand stopped glowing and she muttered, "Rose petals, carnation leaves, rosemary, thyme… and, oh, shit, baby pearls and Telaria horn.

"This is a serious, powerful love potion."

"Um, what the heck are you guys talking about?" Laurie's voice, we'd all forgotten that she was even there. "And Willow… did you just do freaking magic!"

I looked around at Laurie, trying to put together everything, and not… quite… making it.

"Honey… this isn't a good time to explain," Willow said. "Not all the way at least. But… yeah. I just did magic."

"Wow, that's— wait, love potion?" Laurie said, sounding alarmed. "Love… but… but he'd never… oh, god, Dad, what did you _do!"_

Yeah. My eleven year-old stepsister got it before I did. Some genius I am, right?

"He… may have used it on Kelly," Willow admitted. "We don't know, not yet."

"Every month," I said, my voice cracked and horrible. "They do this every month, have since before they were married. She's always so happy and lovey-dovey the day after, and it gets less every day…."

"Okay, now, let's not go off half-cocked, here," Willow said, trying to sound level and even, and kind of failing. "Before we do anything, Elaine promised that we'd have the kitchen cleaned before lunch. Let's finish that. Okay? Then… we'll figure this out."

I was boiling inside by then, seething and wanting to kill that bastard Jerry— but I nodded sharply, and leaned into cleaning up the kitchen. There was more, I could see it in Elaine's haunted, frightened eyes, and Sunrise looked thoughtful and worried.

Once it was done, Laurie, looking very pale and unhappy, said, "Can I go upstairs? I want to… to lie down."

I went to her, hugged her tightly, whispered in her ear, "None of this is your fault, Laurie. You lay down, try to sleep— and remember, sweetie, none of this is in any way your fault."

I felt her tears on my neck, but she nodded before turning and running for the stairs.

"Tell the rest of it," I said, turning back to the others.

"Not here," Willow said. "Back yard, maybe?"

I didn't answer, just turned and led the way outside. We sat, me on the edge of the glider that sat out under my tree, with Elaine holding my hand tightly.

"Sunrise, what do you know?" I asked. I hated how my voice sounded, cold and harsh, but I couldn't make that stop.

"I… don't actually know anything," she said. "But we all got so excited about meeting the two of you that I forgot some things that Giles had me look up.

"Elaine told us that first night about a serial killer that worked around here a few years back, Rose. And I looked into it, because it sure looks like he was a vampire. And it was really organized, careful, for a vampire, which… weird.

"I couldn't find anything about him online, really. Rose… did you know anyone he killed?"

I felt sick to my stomach. It had all been a setup, from that far back! _Five years back!_

"I never met the lady," I said, looking up to make sure that Laurie's window wasn't open. "So I can't say I knew her… but Laurie's mom, Jerry's first wife… she was his first victim."

"Oh, shit," Sunrise said.

"Watch it, Dawn, if Buffy or Giles hear something like that, you'll never hear the end of it," Willow said absently. She looked far away. "Goddess, could someone really have divined something like this that far off? See that they needed to get into your life, Rose? That'd take some serious magical oomph."

"We never asked, I think," Sunrise said. "What's Jerry do for a living, Rose?"

"He's Satan's lawyer," I said, my mind tumbling around like a tennis ball in a dryer.

"What, he works for Wolfram and Hart?" Willow asked, sounding as though she was trying to make a joke.

I looked at her, amazed, and asked, "How did you know that?"

Willow stared at me for a long, long moment before she spoke.

"Oh, _shit!"_ she said.

Ten minutes later, I knew enough about Wolfram and Hart to be scared silly— and violently enraged.

"They want in on the Slayer power," Willow said. "They saw it— or something— coming, and that you were a key to it. So… this."

"And then they… sorry, Elaine, but this is how they'll see it— they got lucky, and now they've got the Chosen Couple in a position to be taken advantage of, instead of just— Elaine, what's wrong!" Dawn looked frightened, and I glanced sideways to see that Elaine had gone pale, paler than me (which takes some doing).

"I… have to do this right, make sure I'm remembering right," Elaine said, before I could so much as ask her what was wrong. She stood, went to Sunrise, whispered in her ear. Dawn got a funny look on her face, like she was trying to remember something, and didn't want to remember it at the same time. Elaine turned back to me and asked, "Rose, where was Jerry when Mom and Dad's plane crashed?"

"His Sunday golf game," I said, puzzled. "He always— damn!"

I leaped forward in time to catch Elaine as she… not exactly fainted, just gave out. Her legs folded slowly, and I caught her, said, "What the hell —?"

"Her Slayer dream," Dawn said, starting to leak tears, trying not to actually sob. "She saw the plane taxiing for takeoff, while a man hit golf balls up into the air. Then he hit a big ice ball up and into the engine, making it break… and crash."

I sat on the ground, holding Elaine in my arms, and I knew right then what had to be done.

"I'm going to kill that murdering son of a bitch," I said in an icy, deadly voice that scared even me.

"No," Elaine said, her voice just as icy and deadly as mine. "No, Rose.

"_We're_ going to kill him."

That sounded just fine to me.

Willow and Sunrise were less enthused about the idea.

"Wait, no, Rose, Elaine— yeah, okay, serious bad guy, but he's a human being, and Slayers don't kill humans," Willow said. "Seriously, it's a big rule, you don't— you can't! Giles won't teach you, won't accept—"

"He accepted Faith again, didn't he?" Elaine said, glaring. "Faith had no reason to kill the man she did, but he accepted her.

"Well we've got a _reason,_ dammit!"

"Guys, please, no," Sunrise said. "I know this has to hurt, I can't even imagine how much, but you can't—"

"Five years!" I said, fighting not to yell at her, knowing she just wanted to help. "Five _years,_ Sunrise! He's been… he's been using my Mom for five… damned… years!"

"The little guy," Elaine said, suddenly. "The little geeky guy. Dark hair, big sad eyes… he said something… said we should stop this, before it got out of hand, before what happened to Katrina happens to… to Kelly."

Willow and Sunrise both went pale.

"Then this girl— Katrina, maybe?— she came out and she said it was—" Elaine stopped, looked at me, and shook her head.

"Finish it," I said. I looked at her, tried to show her that I wasn't mad, but that I needed to hear it. "Please, love, finish it."

Elaine nodded slowly, then said, "The girl came out of a cemetery, and she said, 'It's rape. Maybe they don't hit you, maybe they don't hold you down— but it's rape. Remember that. Remind them. She'll need help. Because it's rape.' "

I sobbed very suddenly, out of nowhere, and I felt so sick and sad and scared that I couldn't see right. I ran for some bushes at the edge of the yard, dropped to my knees and vomited, sobbed, vomited again.

Cool hands pulled my hair back, held it, stroked my back gently. I vomited once more, just bile this time, and knew it was over, that I was done being sick. I sat up, looked at Elaine, nodded to show I was okay. I felt more hands on me, and she and Sunrise helped me up. I didn't see Willow, but she came out of the house while they were leading me back to the glider, a plastic cup in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. She handed both to me, and the cup had mouthwash in it. I moved away some, rinsed and spat a few times, then moved back and sat down, drank some water.

"Thanks, Wil," I said. "Okay… okay, how to handle this?"

"We wait for Buffy," Willow said, her voice harder than I'd ever heard it, hard and firm. "And for Giles. They'll have ideas, I'm sure. And they'll be able to think more clearly, I hope— more clearly than you two are, I know."

"He murdered my parents!" Elaine said, shooting a glare at Willow. "He's been raping Kelly for five _years,_ and you want us to think clearly? What if it were your parents, and Buffy and Sunrise's mom?"

Willow winced, and said, "Okay, I understand that you're crazy-mad, both of you, I do— but rushing off to kill him is not the answer, okay? It's not! You have to think, because if you don't, you're going to do something stupid! And if you two end up in jail, what happens to Kelly? What happens to Laurie? Elaine, what would that do to your grandparents?"

"And how do you prove anything?" Sunrise asked. "How do you walk into a court and say, 'Yeah, we killed him because he's been using love potions on her mom, and he killed my parents by making a plane wreck from over a thousand miles away?' You can't make that work, guys, you just can't!"

"He does not walk away from this!" I shouted. "No way in hell does he walk away from this! It's not happening, and if I have to go to jail to make sure of that, fine!"

"Rose, he won't walk away," Sunrise said. "Okay? He won't! Giles and Buffy will think of something, they always do!"

That's when Kelly's voice came from the back door, said, "What's all the yelling about? Rose, who's not walking away from what? And what are you talking about going to jail for? Are you in trouble?"

I looked at my Mom, standing there in the back doorway, and I tried to find something to say, but I couldn't.

Instead, I ran to her, flung myself into her arms, and started to sob.

_Elaine:_

Jerry killed my parents.

Through all that followed, I kept coming back to that.

Jerry killed my parents.

Jerry was using a love potion to make Kelly love him. He was _raping_ her. _Worse_ than raping her, raping her emotions, her mind.

And he'd killed my parents.

Kelly came out, and Rose fell apart. I couldn't blame her, not at all.

But all I could think about was that Jerry had been raping Kelly— and he murdered my parents.

Willow stood, went to Kelly and Rose, pulled them both outside, over to the glider, where they sat next to me, Kelly holding Rose, looking worried, and saying, "Honey, what's wrong, what's happened?"

"Kelly," Wil said, kneeling in front of Rose and Kelly. "I'm going to ask you to do something for me. It's going to be hard, really hard, but it's very, very important."

"Will it help Rose?" Kelly asked.

"Yes, I think it will," Willow said. "I'm almost sure it will— and it's the only thing that can be done right now that even _might_ help."

"Then I don't care how hard it is," Kelly said. "I'll do it."

"Okay," Willow said, and took a deep breath. "Kelly, I need you to not ask what's wrong. To let it go. Hold Rose, help her feel better— and Elaine, too, and maybe even Laurie— but don't ask what's wrong. Not now. Just… accept that it's very bad, and that you knowing will not make it better.

"Help Rose. Help them all. But… don't ask for specifics."

"I… all right." Kelly looked troubled, but she nodded and said again, "All right, Willow. But… when can I know what's wrong?"

Willow looked at her watch, said, "Less than two hours, I hope. I need Buffy and Giles here before I say anything.

"Dawn… get online, get me a number for American Eagle Airlines customer services. Hurry, please."

"On it," Dawn said, and went to her bag to get her laptop out.

"Elaine, you stay here, help Kelly get Rose calmed down." Willow stood, looked at Kelly again, and said, "Kelly… do you trust me? Really, deep-down trust me?"

"I… yes," Kelly said. "I know that you want to help, Willow, I just… yes, I trust you."

"Then I'm going to go up to talk to Laurie for a little bit," Willow said. "Kelly, what's happened… she needs to know about the Slayers, and Rose and Elaine both being one and, well everything. I'll tell her, if that's okay— I can show her some things that may help her believe."

"I— yes. Yes, all right." Kelly looked troubled, but also sort of relieved. "I don't like hiding things from her, anyway."

"Number," Sunrise said, handing Willow a slip of paper with a phone number on it.

"Good job, Dawn," Wil said. "I'll call from inside, before I go up to Laurie."

She went inside, and I moved closer to Kelly and Rose, put my arms around them both, and cried myself. Sunrise looked helpless for a moment— then Kelly reached out a hand, pulled her down to sit with us, wrapped her into the group hug with us.

That made me feel a fresh swell of hate for Jerry— seeing how Kelly was trying to help Sunrise feel better, even while she had to be burning up with questions of her own.

It was thirty minutes before Willow came out, leading Laurie by the hand. She looked at us on the glider, bent and whispered in Laurie's ear for a moment, then nudged her forward. Even as Sunrise got up to go to talk to Willow, Laurie came and took her place.

"I knew you guys were extra-special," Laurie said, whispering against Rose's ear, and looking at me. "I just had no idea how special— and I think it's cool as hell that you guys are going to help save people.

"I want to be like you both when I get older. I know I don't have the Slayer power stuff, but Willow says all that you need to be a Watcher is a brain and a lot of patience— so I think I want to be a Watcher."

Kelly smiled, stroked Laurie's hair and said, "That sounds like a great ambition, Laurie— and even if you don't go that route, there are a million things you can do to help people. If you still want to help people like Rose and Elaine, well… I'll bet that a bunch of Slayers will sometimes get banged up, so they could use their own private doctor— I mean, if a monster claws open your back, that has to be hard to explain to the ER people. But I think, a Watcher…? You could do that."

Kelly being so sweet, so worried about Laurie… that made me more crazy-furious at Jerry. Before long, I wouldn't be able to so much as see him without launching myself at his throat.

Willow came over, said softly, "I got hold of the airline people, they got a message to the plane, had Giles call me from the air-phone. The airline's going to make sure that Giles, Buffy and the rest are the first off of the plane, and rushed through baggage claim and stuff. I think we should have lunch, then go straight there, all of us together. I'll need to rent a second van, so we'll need the time."

"How many new people are coming?" Kelly asked.

"Well, Giles, Buffy and Xander are coming back," Willow said. "And Kennedy, my girlfriend, is with them. Also Faith— Giles has a job for her, and leaving from here made more sense than from California, she's got to go to Detroit for something— and three new girls who… well, they have the Slayer power, but each one has some sort of problem that requires special attention, extra help."

"What sort of problems?" Kelly asked— and again, I got still more angry at Jerry as she demonstrated her compassion.

"Brianne is fifteen and blind," Willow said. "We'll need to get her to a doctor, see if there's any chance her sight's coming back, but… blind since birth, so I'm not sure the Slayer power can fix that.

"Vivian, she's eighteen, and… abusive parents. Emotional and mental, not physical, or not physical very often. She's in need of some serious counseling, and Giles and Buffy both agreed that with her having been Slayer-ized, she needs watching over by people who can handle it if she has a panic attack.

"Then… Sara. She's just barely twelve, and right after she got the power— less than two hours later— she and her mom were in a car wreck, and her mom died. Her dad died before she was born, and no living relatives… Giles managed to get custody of her, I don't know how, but she's… hurting. Badly."

"Sunrise thinks I may be able to help her," I said, surprising myself by wanting to help, wanting that very much. "I hope so— but having you guys as family, that will help, too.

"God knows that all of you have helped me."

Kelly hugged me, and Rose spoke for the first time in more than half an hour.

"We'll help them all," she said in a low voice. "We will. We'll find a way.

"We'll help them."

Kelly looked at Rose, sensed something still very wrong in her daughter's voice, but, as Willow had requested, didn't ask questions.

"I think I'd better go fix lunch, girls," Kelly said, disentangling herself slowly. "No one looks hungry, really, but… I'm cooperating by not asking questions, so I hope you'll all cooperate with me, and eat at least a little, okay?"

We all agreed, and Kelly went inside. As soon as she was gone, Laurie, who hadn't moved close after Kelly got up, held a tentative hand out to Rose— and Rose took it, held it, smiled at Laurie, and pulled her close for a hug. Laurie burst into tears, tears of shame and rage, and Rose pulled her close, held her, made comfort-noises.

That made me so proud of my Rose that it almost hurt.

"Not your fault, Laurie," Rose said against Laurie's hair. "None of it's your fault, honey, none of it. It's okay, I love you, Laurie, and I don't blame you— and I won't let you blame yourself."

I got up, moved to Laurie's other side, helped Rose cuddle and comfort her, and we sat there until Kelly called us all in for lunch.

She'd made soup, both chicken and beef-vegetable, and we all ate something, though none of us all that much. Then we did a quick clean-up, and headed for the airport. Willow got parked, then went and rented a second van, parked it, and came back.

The extended Scooby Gang was the first batch off of the plane, and a guy with a baggage cart and everyone's baggage on it came out from the claim area as we got there, theirs having been separated out rather than sent through normal channels.

I didn't even have time to look over the new girls before Buffy had swept both me and Rose into a super-tight hug. I shuddered, and Rose let out a single choked sob, and Buffy said to us both, "I know how much you want to kill him— but you can't. That you waited for us, didn't go haring off after him… that tells me everything I need to know about the Powers That Be choosing right when they chose you two.

"And I _swear_ to you, to both of you— he'll pay. Maybe not the usual way, but he will pay for this.

"I swear it."

We nodded, neither of us trusting our voices, and Buffy pulled back a little to look at us.

"What can we do for Mom?" Rose asked in a whisper. "Can we help her?"

"We can," Buffy said. "Giles needs to talk to her, then… then Willow will clean the spell effects from her.

"Rose, honey… when that happens, she's going to need you. Need you whole, intact, able to help her until the lady that Giles called can get here— later today, and she'll start working with your mom right away, okay?"

"I'll be there when she needs me," Rose said firmly. "But… what lady? How can she help?"

"Okay… telling you who she is, that's probably going to send you right back up the crazy-ladder to the rung marked 'kill Jerry,' " Buffy said. "Can you hold it together, not try to act on that, or start shouting?"

"Yes," Rose said, and took my hand for support.

"Yes," I agreed, squeezing Rose's hand.

"The lady in question is a rape counselor who knows about magic and monsters," Buffy said softly, and Rose and I squeezed each other's hands hard, so hard that it's good we were both Slayers. "She understands that magic is real, and that it makes for unique kinds of rape— and Giles is sure she'll be able to help Kelly."

"Okay," Rose breathed. "Okay. Yeah."

"All right," Buffy said. "Let's go— we'll make introductions as we go to the parking lot."

We started for the lot, and got introduced to some people.

Kennedy— who was holding onto Willow in a fashion I knew from how I held onto Rose— was a beautiful girl, small, compact, dark-haired, with big dark eyes that spoke of her Hispanic descent. She seemed very energetic— but subdued, probably due to what was going on.

Faith… god, she was sexy. And she knew it, wore it like a badge. She seemed cool, and I could see… something between her and Buffy. Not a romantic something (Buffy Summers may well be the straightest girl alive— but she manages that without being at all intolerant of the rest of us, so I don't mind), but some sort of understanding that went past friendship. I don't know what it was, still don't— but it was almost solid.

Then the new girls. Brianne Dayton… yikes! Very, very hot. Dark brown hair that fell midway down her back in a loose ponytail, wavy and thick, a slightly angular face, with little hints in her broad cheekbones and deep-set, almost-black eyes (she didn't bother with dark glasses— just her red-tipped cane) spoke of some Native American ancestry. Her body was tight with muscle, and very, very sexy— C-cup breasts, hips that were just wide enough, proportionately long legs, maybe an inch over five feet tall.

Then came Vivian Chaucer. Five-seven or so, slender to the point of skinny, pale-blond hair, cropped short in a fashion that didn't flatter her face. Sharp features, cheekbones like razor blades, beautiful in a way that might have been haughty if not for her frightened blue eyes and habit of never meeting anyone's gaze for long. She had breasts smaller than mine but larger than Rose's, and narrow hips that worked with the rest of her well enough, though she could use some more muscle on her.

And little Sara Lamont. I could see a raging beauty inside her, only waiting for puberty to finish its work to bring it out. She had a natural tan, brown hair to her shoulders, these gorgeous blue-gray eyes, and an already-cute (if tiny) figure. Her face was broad, but not overly so, and she had the look of someone who smiled a lot— or used to. I could see the pain in her eyes, that look of being lost, and I knew I'd worn it, too, until I found out I'd be staying here.

We got to the vans, and rode to Scooby Mansion, the new group in one van, us in the other. Kelly seemed puzzled, but not upset, when she realized we weren't going home.

Once we got there, Xander collected the new girls, led them all off to the rooms that would be theirs, Kennedy following him to help, and to keep someone familiar with them. Faith sat down with the yellow pages, started looking through them for something. Giles led everyone else to the big study on the ground floor, got everyone seated— me, Rose and Laurie clustered around Kelly in a tight, protective knot— then dragged a chair over to sit right across from Kelly.

Giles took off his glasses, dry-scrubbed his face, and sighed before speaking.

"Kelly… there's something I need to ask you." He put his glasses back on and looked her in the eyes. "Kelly, I know that you haven't known us very long… but can you trust us? All of us? Will you accept that… that what we are about to tell you isn't something we made up, or concocted from a desire to make Rose's life… more palatable to her? That, while I want Rose to be happy, I would never, ever condone lying to you, let alone about something as grave as what I'm about to tell you?"

"I can," Kelly said, and looked at Rose. "Mostly because… Giles, Rose is one of the world's worst liars. She's _not_ happy, she's hurt, she's scared— and I think she's so angry that it's almost frightening."

"Yes," Giles said. "Kelly… we are all hurt, and angry, and some of us are… scared, yes. I include myself. Because what I am about to tell you is— it's not the sort of thing that anyone should ever have to hear. I'm frightened of… hurting you. Hurting Rose, hurting Elaine, hurting Laurie… but mostly of what I know this may do to you."

"I think you'd better tell me what's going on, Rupert," Kelly said in a voice that, while steady, had some fright in it.

"Yes," Giles said. "Yes, I'd better."


	22. Chapter 22

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 22

_Elaine:_

"Kelly, you know that magic is real," Giles said. "That's a start, certainly. But you need to know a bit more.

"One of the magics that is more common among practitioners is divination— determining things about the future in order to take advantage of those things, shape the future more to your liking. Accurate divination over more than a month's time or so requires… phenomenal power, and often a similar expense. Even then, one is likely to receive only something that points in a general direction, or at a single object or person that may lead to what the diviner seeks.

"We believe that's what is behind what's happened here. We think that people with access to the necessary power, the necessary funds, did some sort of divination years ago, that told them things about an event that happened recently. There's evidence that they did this some time ago… and that the solution to the question they asked pointed them at Rose."

"But… Rose? Why Rose?" Kelly blinked suddenly, then said, "Oh, damn. The Slayer power, yes, of course. I'm sorry, I forgot.

"What did they do to Rose?"

(I felt Kelly's arms tighten around Rose as she asked that, and my urge to kill Jerry doubled— again.)

"They didn't do anything to Rose," Giles said. "What was done they did to get _access_ to Rose… but Kelly, it was done to you."

Kelly stared— and Laurie burst into fresh tears.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed, clinging to Kelly with hysterical strength. "I'm sorry, I didn't KNOW! I swear, I DIDN'T KNOW!"

"Honey, what— no, Laurie, it's okay, hush, honey, it's okay, I know you didn't do anything!" Kelly said, getting both arms around Laurie, pulling her close. "Baby, it's all right, I know you'd never do anything to hurt me."

Sunrise came over then, knelt in front of us all, reached out and touched Laurie's arm. Laurie looked at her, and Sunrise said, "Laurie, I know you're scared. I know you feel bad— but remember what Rose said; this isn't your fault. If Rose can figure that out, Laurie, don't you think Kelly will be able to? She's Rose's mom, and Rose got her brains from Kelly, as well as her looks."

Laurie nodded slowly, and Sunrise said something that surprised me.

"Laurie… will you come lay down with me for a little bit?" Sunrise asked. "I know you want to stay… but it's only hurting you, being here. And that's making it harder for Giles to say the things he needs to say. So… come with me? Please?"

"I… I don't know," Laurie said, looking doubtful. "I want to… to help Kelly, to make sure…."

"Okay, well," Sunrise said, "how about this; you and I go sit on the couch out in the living room, and Buffy promises that, as soon as the hard part's done, she'll come get you. Will that work?"

Laurie looked at Buffy, demanded with a ferocity very unlike her, "Will you promise, Buffy? Swear that you'll come get me as soon as Giles has said everything he has to say?"

"I swear," Buffy said. "And Dawn will tell you that I may be a pain in the ass— but I keep a promise."

"She does," Sunrise agreed. "She is, but she does."

"Okay," Laurie said after a moment. "Okay, Dawn." She looked at Kelly, rose up on her knees to kiss Kelly's cheek. "I'm so sorry. I love you… Mom."

That got her a full-bore Mom-hug, and a second, just as tight full-bore sister-hug from Rose. Then she let Sunrise lead her out of the room, and Kelly turned her focus back on Giles.

"Tell me," she said, her voice in full mom-mode, packing all the fourteen years of practice that she'd had using that voice on Rose into those two words.

"Kelly, magic is real," Giles said. "A great many things we see in fiction, even in fairy tales, can really be done with magic. Among those things is something that gave some very bad people access to Rose— through you."

"What very bad people?" Kelly asked.

"I… that's difficult… all right." Giles sighed, sat back, shook his head. "Kelly, would it surprise you if I told you that, in these more modern times, there are agents of evil— supernatural evil— that have gone into business? Literally?"

"No, not really," Kelly said. "It almost makes sense. But… well, there'd be a lot of things in the way, wouldn't there?"

"A great many, yes," Giles said. "Which is one reason the evil I speak of is so very, very successful. They are very good at getting things done, and done legally. They understand both aspects of the world, the supernatural and the more mundane, and they are very good at manipulating both, even using them to manipulate each other in some instances. We've had no dealings with them ourselves, but some… friends and allies of ours have dealt with them fairly constantly over the last four years or so."

"So who are these people?" Kelly asked.

"It's a law firm that has branches all over the world," Giles said. "Including right here in Normal— well, Bloomington, I think. Here in town."

"Oh, Mother Mary!" Kelly said, stiffening. "Are you talking about Wolfram and Hart!"

"Yes, I'm afraid that I am," Giles said, sounding miserable.

"We've got to warn Jerry!" Kelly cried— and I felt Rose stiffen, pull tight like a kite string in a hurricane.

"I'm afraid not," Giles said softly. "Kelly… Jerry is the one who has done the things to you that have us all so upset and concerned."

"That's ridiculous," Kelly said. "He loves me. I love him. He'd never do anything to hurt me."

"I'm afraid that we have proof that he has," Giles said. "Kelly… do you remember when I mentioned that things from fiction and fairy tales truly can be done?"

"Yes, of course, but what—"

"Jerry has been dosing you with a very powerful love potion." Giles said the words, then sat back to wait for Kelly's reaction.

"That's ridiculous," Kelly scoffed. "He'd never do that— he wouldn't _have_ to do that!"

"Mom," Rose said softly. "Mom, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, you were… grumpy. Snappish. And you're always that way— always!— right before you two do your 'First Wednesday of the Month' thing. Laurie has noticed it, too. We always wrote it off to you guys not getting enough time together, maybe, but… Mom, Willow's a witch, hell, she's _the_ witch, and she analyzed the stuff Sunrise found in your glass. It was stuff for a powerful love potion."

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe—" Kelly started.

"Laurie believes it," Buffy said— and that hit hard, I could see it in Kelly's face. Buffy went on, pushed, not to hurt Kelly, but to make her see. "You said yourself that Rose is hurt and angry and scared— what do you think did that to her?

"She hates Jerry, I know that— but if he wasn't doing something to hurt you, do you really think she'd let us tell you that he was?"

"He… he'd never do that," Kelly said. "I'm sorry, but there's been a mistake, that's all."

"He did," Willow said. "Kelly, I can't make you believe without setting you free. I could do that, I will— but the thing I have to know is, are you going to believe me? That setting you free is all I did? Or will you think I did something to you, made you not love him? See, that's the problem."

"I… don't want to believe that you'd do anything to me," Kelly said. "But… Jerry loves me! I love him, I can't believe that anything like magic could make me feel this way!"

"Mom," Rose said softly. "Mom, you told me that the night I met Elaine, you saw the… 'the look of love' on my face, that you saw that look on Aunt Mary's face, and Uncle David's… and in the mirror after you met Daddy.

"Mom, have you ever seen that look on your face over Jerry? Even once?"

"Well, no, but— that's not— it's different, this is a second marriage, it's not—"

"Mom, you didn't divorce Daddy, he didn't leave you," Rose said, tears starting to pour down her face. "He died, and he… do you think for one second that Daddy would be angry with you for falling in love again? Do you think he wouldn't want that? Wouldn't want you to be happy?"

"No, Rose, of course not," Kelly said. "Michael would hate me being… lonely, alone."

"So why shouldn't you fall in love again?" Rose asked. "Why shouldn't you see that look again, 'the look of love?'

"And why in the hell would you marry a man who didn't make that look pop up on your face… if there wasn't something wrong going on?"

Kelly stared at Rose. Rose looked back, her gaze steady despite her tears.

Kelly looked down, stared at the floor, then raised her head to Willow, said in a bitter, hurt voice, "Do your spell. Now, before I change my mind."

"Buffy, get my kit," Willow said. "Giles, Calderone's Antidotes and Cures. And… I'll call Xander."

"Xander?" Rose said.

"I need him to get something for me," Willow said. "He'll know what to look for."

Then I heard Willow in my head— her lips didn't move, and the words sounded different, cutting _over_ the sound of the door closing behind Buffy, not _through_ it.

_Xander, I need some butterbur root,_ Willow's voice said in our heads. _You remember what it looks like, right? I'll bet there's some growing out by the stream at the back of the property. Hurry, please_.

Giles handed Willow a very old book, and she flipped through it until she found what she wanted. "There you are. Okay, I have everything in my kit but the butterbur and Xander's getting that… ah, wait. No, we'll have that in the spice rack. But… saffron? Well, okay, saffron."

"I'll get it," Giles said. "Spice rack?"

"Near the corner of the counter, left of the stove," Willow said. As Giles left the room, she handed the book to Kelly, open to the page she was looking from, and Rose and I looked, too.

"For the removal of the influence of love potions and spells," Kelly read. "All right, I see. But… I still can't believe."

"Mom?" Rose said in a small voice. "Mom I… I wish I didn't. I hate him— never stopped— but I'd never wish this on you. You know that, right?"

"I know, sweetheart," Kelly said. "But when this doesn't work, will you let it go?"

"If it doesn't work, I won't have a choice," Rose said.

Buffy came in, handed Willow what looked like an old, wooden tackle box, which she opened out and started pulling things from. Giles came next, with a little bottle full of brown shreds of plant stuff. Finally, Xander came in, holding a plant out to Willow for approval.

"That's it, thanks, Xander," Willow said. "Girls all settled in?"

"Settled as they're gonna get right now," Xander said. "Brianne's drafted Vivian to be her eyes, lead her around the place for a while. Sara… she's laying down. Got her baseball bat out of her suitcase, laid down holding it."

"Baseball bat?" Willow asked, even as she started cleaning and chopping the butterbur root.

"She'd just finished a little league game when the wreck happened," Xander said. "She got a home run in the game— with that bat. She was holding it when the other car ran a stop sign, and it got wedged between the dashboard and the roof when they hit it— it saved her life, the cops think, because it stopped her from going through the windshield. So she carries it everywhere, and Giles says we should let her, for right now."

"Talismanic, sure," Willow agreed. "Giles, good call, letting her keep it. Her investing it with power—"

"Gives it power, yes," Giles said. "I have been doing this for a while, you know."

"Point," Willow said. "Just babbling."

She finished what she'd been doing, put everything in a stone bowl, stirred it all together, then moved to kneel in front of Kelly.

"Kelly . . ." Willow said softly, "for what it's worth… I'm sorry. Sorry this ever happened."

"Just do it, before I change my mind," Kelly said, her voice unsteady. "But really, it's not going to work."

Willow didn't answer, just looked at the book, and recited the spell.

"She before me has been used ill," Willow chanted, her voice picking up a sort of reverberation as she went on, "Made to love against her will. In the Goddess's name I do implore, let this potion work no more. Set free the mind, set free the soul, and let the heart be free and whole."

The contents of the bowl burst into flame, and burned to nothing almost immediately, like flash paper— and the smoke went straight to Kelly, who inhaled in surprise, taking it all in.

For a moment, nothing happened— then Kelly's face… I can't describe it right. It fell. It broke. It… shattered. A look of disbelief darted across her features, and then a terrible… I can't. I'm sorry, I can't. There are no words for that kind of hurt, not in my head, anyway.

"No," Kelly whispered. Then she said, louder. "No. No, I didn't— I didn't let him do— I can't— I never did that, I never would have done that! He… what did he do!

"What did he MAKE ME DO!"

Then she wailed. It hurt, that wail, like a knife to the gut, as it packed so much hurt, despair and… and _shame,_ that it couldn't be borne.

Buffy went to the door at a run, stuck her head out, said, "Laurie! Come here, sweetie."

Rose and I were trying to hold onto Kelly, help her, calm her, but that shame— she was trying to hide from us, retreat from us. I saw Rose's face, knew that if she saw Jerry right now, she'd kill him, tear him to shreds, and nothing— not even Buffy, not even _Willow_— would be able to stop her. Not without killing her.

Then Laurie was there, trying to hug Kelly, crying and trying to help Rose and I help her.

That's all I can tell you right now— I know that the others left, left us to try to help, but Willow… she told me telepathically that she'd be listening for me to call her the same way, that I should call her if either Kelly went to sleep, or refused to let us help her for much longer.

Then it got blurry for a while.

_Rose:_

"What did he MAKE ME DO!"

When my mom wailed those words, I wanted to die almost as much as I wanted to kill Jerry Wentworth.

The shame I saw on her face, that horrified shame… no one should have to feel that. And I knew exactly who was responsible.

We held Mom, me and Elaine and Laurie, we held her, we cried with her, we cried _for_ her— and that's about all you're going to get.

This is supposed to be as complete a chronicle as I can make it, and I've been really honest about a lot of things that are… kind of hard to be honest about. But this… it isn't mine to share. It was Mom's hurt. I can't give you that.

But one more thing, one more thing that shows how goddamn tough, how incredibly _good_ my Mom is: In the middle of all that horror and shame and god knows what else that she was feeling, in the middle of five years worth of hell piling up on her all at once, my mom made an extra effort to make sure that Laurie— _the daughter of the man who'd been raping Mom for the last five years_— knew that Mom didn't blame her at all, that she _loved_ Laurie.

You got something negative to say about my Mom, you'd best bring a damned battalion with you, because that's what it's going to take to stop me from getting to you and kicking your stupid ass.

Mom fell asleep crying, crying and clinging to all three of us— and Elaine looked towards the door, concentrated, and Willow came in. Okay, neat.

Willow came over, knelt in front of us, then opened her fisted left hand and blew a tiny spray of gold-glowing dust in Mom's face. Immediately, Mom's breathing deepened, evened out— and some of the look of hurt eased from her face.

"She'll sleep, now," Willow said. "We're going to put her upstairs, but she'll sleep until sunrise, or until I wake her. Dreamless, for right now. She needs it."

"Could I… lay down with her?" Laurie asked. "I mean— look, I'm not dumb. I know what my— my father did. And Kelly, she doesn't hate me for that, and I can't do anything to help you guys do… what I know you've got to do, and I want to help, so please, can I stay with Kelly?"

"Of course you can, sis," I said, putting a tiny, tiny emphasis on that last word.

"Okay," Laurie said. "Willow could you… do that sleep thing to me?"

"I can," Willow said. "But why don't you hug Rose and Elaine first?"

Laurie hugged Elaine, hard, got hugged back the same way, then turned to me, shy and scared. I pulled her close, hugged her hard.

"No blame, Laurie," I said. "No blame. You're my sister, I love you— and because you _are_ my sister, I'll probably blame you for a lot of things that aren't your fault as we get older— but never, _ever_ for this."

"I love you, too," Laurie said in a tiny voice. "I just wish this had never happened."

"We all do," I said. "But… something good came from all this, Laurie— I've got a sister. Mom's got a second daughter. You're the _good_ in this mess, Laurie, and if you forget that, I'll kick your butt."

"Thank you," Laurie said. "I love you, Rose.

"Okay, Willow, I think I'm ready."

Willow blew the last of the gold-glowing dust in her hand at Laurie, and she, too, fell asleep. Her face relaxed, shed some pain, and I felt relief. Nobody should ever have to deal with this shit— but especially not an eleven year-old kid with no mean in her.

"Okay, let me get them upstairs, and—" Willow said.

"You get Mom," I said, standing. "I'll get Laurie."

Elaine followed us upstairs, Willow floating Mom along telekinetically, me carrying Laurie. We put them in a third floor guestroom, and I covered them with a sheet, kissed them both on the cheek, then let Elaine tug me gently from the room.

"Okay," I said. "Now… somebody had better be ready to talk about how that miserable rat-bastard bag of shit pays for what he did to my Mom and my sister, or I'm going to have to be a problem."

"Library," Willow said, and led the way down.

We found Giles, Buffy, Xander, Kennedy, Sunrise and Faith in the library, sitting around a table with three empty chairs waiting for us. Willow sat next to Kennedy, and Rose and I plopped between Giles and Sunrise.

Buffy looked us over, then asked bluntly, "Are you two going to be able to be sane right now?"

"Barely," I said.

"A little bit," Elaine said.

"Then I guess that'll have to be enough." Buffy pushed her hair out of her face, and let out an explosive breath. "Okay. Believe me, I know you're both angry, and I know you've got every right to be angry. What I don't know is if you're going to be able to be angry without being so angry that you do something you can't step back from."

"And before you say anything," Faith said, "let me tell you something; she's right. You don't step back from it. You can fight your way partway back, maybe— but once you've killed somebody, it's with you for life.

"I didn't even mean to kill the first guy I killed— and that's still in my head. Always will be. It took some serious magical shit to get me past it enough to stop saying it didn't matter, it wasn't wrong… and that's with it being an _accident_.

"You girls go kill this dirtbag son of a bitch _on purpose_… that's gonna be worse. No matter what he's done, it'll be worse. You may not get over it."

"Okay," Elaine said. She let out a huge, hurt sigh. "I get you."

"Yeah," I said. "I… I can manage to _not_ kill him. I think. If you guys are there, watching me— all of you, I think— then I'm pretty sure I'll be able to not do it."

"Thanks, Faith," Buffy said.

"Anytime, B."

"All right," Giles said. "We've an idea… Buffy has spoken with Angel, our friend and ally who has dealt with Wolfram and Hart many times… and he's given some advice about how to handle this. We have a tentative plan."

"Okay, what's the plan?" Elaine asked, when no one said more.

"We're kind of thinking of storming the castle— with a hostage," Xander said. "We thought you girls might like to take the hostage."

"So long as you don't expect me to make it quick, I'm in," I said. "Elaine?"

"He hurts," Elaine said. "Before we knock him out, he _hurts_."

"No permanent injuries," Buffy said warningly.

"I can deal," I said. "Elaine?"

"Broken bones aren't permanent," Elaine said philosophically. "I'm up for it."

"All right, then, here's the plan," Buffy said.

She told us the plan, and it didn't take long. And oh, was it a good plan!

"Let's get moving," I said when she'd finished. "He'll be getting home soon."

"Excellent," Giles said. "Rose, Dr. Hodges will be along about eight this evening, to start working with your mother. I thought that, if there's time while you're at your house, you might grab some things for yourself and your mother— and Elaine, you should get some things, too. And some for Laurie. Kelly… she may not be able to go back there ever, and she certainly shouldn't anytime soon."

"But that's okay," Sunrise said, beaming at us. "Because I've been nominated to deliver the good news.

"We'd all really like it if you all four moved in here. To live. You know, permanently."

I gawped. Elaine managed to say, "I can't speak for Kelly, or for Laurie… but if they ask me and Rose, we'll definitely give the idea a thumbs-up."

"Good," Giles said. "And on that note… let us put our plan in motion."

We left for my house— my old house, I already thought of it that way— leaving Kennedy and Sunrise with the new girls, and Mom and Laurie. Kennedy knew the newbies, and Sunrise… she was just her. She got along with people. So they stayed, Kennedy a bit grouchily, Sunrise with a nod and a "Be careful."

We went to get Jerry.

Jerry came upstairs after parking his car in the garage, and straight into the kitchen. Elaine and I were sitting at the table between him and the back door, and he looked at us, failed to see the hatred in our eyes, and asked, "Where's your mother, Rose?"

"Safe," I said. "Away from you, and safe."

Jerry looked around at her, his face clouding up. "What did you say, young lady?"

"I said she's safe," I repeated. "You know— out of harm's way? Where you can't ever feed her your god damned love potion again?"

I'll give him credit— he was pretty quick. He got that right away, and he turned to run back the way he came— then jerked to a halt.

"Hi there," Buffy said from the doorway into the living room. "You weren't planning on leaving, were you?"

"Who are you!" Jerry asked. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Buffy Summers," Buffy said casually. "I'd tell you I'm pleased to meet you, but I really don't much care for rapists— even the non-violent kind who do it by love potion."

When Buffy said her name, Jerry turned _green_— and I felt a warm-and-fuzzy glow at that sight.

He turned to run for the door to the dining room, and Faith waved at him from where she was leaning against the frame.

"Hey, Jerry," Faith said. "I'm Faith. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm the bad Slayer— the one who digs the hell out of beating the shit out of assholes like you."

He turned, tried to figure out how to get to the back door past me and Elaine— and saw Xander standing there, holding a sword in his hand.

"You can try," Xander said. "I really don't think you'll get around the Chosen Couple, but if you do, I'm willing to give you a little scratch. You know, if we define scratch as 'great big gushing mortal wound.' That sort of scratch."

"Now, look, all I ever did was follow orders," Jerry said.

"You killed my parents." Elaine's voice was flat and hard, like a field of marble.

"You've spent the last five years raping my Mom," I said, my voice icy and steady. "So guess what, Jerry? Not real interested in your excuses!"

Elaine and I stood as Jerry looked around for a place to go. "If you kill me, my employers—"

"Will face an army of Slayers if they so much as look our direction," Buffy said.

"You've had your dance, Jerry," I said, quoting one of my Daddy's favorite expressions. "Well… now it's time to pay the fiddler."

Jerry grabbed a butcher knife out of the rack on the counter, held it up defensively as Elaine and I started towards him.

I laughed— and we leaped.

We didn't kill him, not even close— much as we both wanted to. Elaine broke a collarbone, and I broke a cheekbone— two _very_ painful breaks— and past that, we just gave him more bruises than I've ever seen on one supposedly-human being. And as soon as he was really unconscious, we both stopped. We didn't even make Buffy tell us to stop.

"Well, that looked like it did you some good," Buffy said. "Didn't do him any, maybe, but that's just fine.

"Girls… thanks. For not making me tell you to stop. I'm proud of you both."

"Thanks," I said, and Elaine echoed me.

"So… let's see what Giles has found," Buffy said. "Faith, do you mind guarding the garbage?"

"No problem," Faith said, moving over to straddle a chair backwards. "He moves, I'll break his other collarbone— nice shot, Elaine."

"Thanks," Elaine said. "I remembered in a health class, they told us that was one of the most painful bones to break."

"That and the cheekbone," Faith said. "And Rose got that one. You guys did good."

We went down to where Giles and Wil were working on Jerry's computer, and Buffy said, "Anything?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Giles said. "Not that I'm surprised— I'm sure his employers have strict rules against putting that sort of thing on a home PC."

"Okay, so… stage two," Buffy said. "Let's go."

Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to the big glass-and-steel building— twenty stories, for Pete's sake— that housed Wolfram and Hart's Bloomington offices. We stopped right in front of the main doors, and we all got out. Me, Elaine, Buffy, Faith, Willow, Xander and Giles. Then Buffy reached back into the van and grabbed a funny-looking long briefcase, flipped it open, and pulled out the coolest thing— the axe-thing that Willow had used to activate all us Slayers.

It was about two and a half feet long, mostly metal, but with a butt on the haft that was a tough-looking wooden stake. The middle of the handle had been wrapped in aged brown leather, and it looked… comfortable. The blade looked like an odd combination of fire axe and a Japanese naginata, a bladed polearm with a long but narrow chopping blade. The metal of the blade and mounting was mostly red, not painted, but red metal— except for the cutting surface and a width in from it, varying from an inch to maybe two inches, which was the silver of brightly polished steel.

I wanted to grab it, to hold it, to _wield_ it— and Buffy, by her grin, knew I wanted these things.

"Ooo, pretty," Elaine said. "Can I…?"

"I expect you'll both get to use the Scythe," Buffy said. "But… not today. Faith, catch."

Buffy flung the scythe to Faith, and the dark-haired Slayer caught it as it spun past her, rolled it over her hand a time or two, then slung it up to rest on her shoulder, like a baseball bat being carried on the shoulder as the batter goes to the plate.

"Rose, Elaine, grab your weapons," Buffy said.

I grabbed my sword and a pair of stakes— not likely to be vamps in here, Buffy said, but it could happen— and Elaine grabbed a hardwood staff of Giles's and a pair of stakes.

"Okay, then," Buffy said. "Last review; Xander, Elaine, Rose and I take Jerry the Scuzzball here inside, raise a little ruckus— and try to clear out the lobby. Faith, you and Giles get to the head honcho— he'll be here, somewhere, it's not even six yet— and explain the sitch to him. Willow, you wait here and send your mojo to whichever team needs it.

"Everybody got it? Okay." Buffy looked towards the doors, grinned and said, "Let's get it done."

We four who were in charge of clearing out the lobby started for the door, and things got… interesting, really fast.

_Interlude:_

Once the first team had gotten inside the doors to the lobby, Faith looked at Giles and said, "So what's the real story, Giles? What are you trying to keep from the girls?"

Giles blinked, looked at Faith, and shook his head a little in admiration. "Well, you've certainly gotten wiser since we first met, Faith."

"Thanks," she said. "So… what's the lowdown? This can't be about a distraction for us to get to the Honcho. We could all seven get there a lot easier, probably. And threats… B makes them as well as either of us. So what's the deal? Why we doin' this?"

"It's rather simple, actually," Giles said. "While I was in Jerry's office, I recovered copies of his will and his insurance policy. His will leaves an even split of all his assets, real property, etcetera, to Laurie and Kelly. His life insurance policy pays equal shares to both, as well.

"We're here to make sure that the management of Wolfram and Hart understands that neither is to be changed before or after Jerry is killed, on pain of aggravating an army's worth of Slayers and the most powerful witch in the world."

"So… we're killing him after all?" Faith said, sounding troubled.

"Oh, no— I could do it, but I shan't." Giles gave Faith a smile that, had she not rejoined the side of the angels, would have sent chills down her spine. "No, we're not killing Jerry.

"I rather expect that Wolfram and Hart will kill him for us."


	23. Chapter 23

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 23

_Rose:_

I opened the lobby doors for the others, and Elaine gave me a quick, nervous smile as she went in— this was going to be hectic and maybe hellish, and she'd not fought as much as I had, or learned as much. Xander came next, sword sheathed on his back, trying to look inconspicuous.

Then came Buffy— dragging Jerry's unconscious body by the collar of his shirt. I came in after her, let the door close, and followed the group to the security desk some five paces inside the doors, where a guard was already speaking in a low, urgent voice on the phone.

"Hi, there," Buffy said, lifting Jerry and tossing him to lay across the desk. "We need to see this asshole's boss. Now."

"Lady, I don't know who you are, but you just bought yourself a whole heap of trouble," the not-on-the-phone guard said.

"That's fine," Buffy said. "Trouble's my favorite accessory.

"So, you gonna announce me, or what?"

"Okay, I'll bite," the guard said. "Give me your name."

"Buffy Summers to see Mr. Boss-butt-munch," Buffy said— and grinned as the guard's head jerked up. "Yes, _the_ Buffy Summers. Sometimes known as the Slayer?"

"Shit!" the guard said— and slapped a big red button on the console in front of him. Immediately, red lights flashed from the ceiling, and a computerized voice came from speakers all over the room (and presumably all over the building), saying, "Code Red— intruder alert. Magical intrusion detected. Code Red— intruder alert. Magical intrusion detected."

"They're playing my song," Buffy said with a grin— and it got nuts.

Both guards came around the desk, pulling tonfa from their belts, spinning the nightsticks in preparation for hitting us.

Buffy kicked the one on her side in the head, and Elaine rammed her staff straight into the other one's crotch (making Xander wince even as he drew his sword), putting him on the ground, where he lay and made a sort of whistling noise of pain.

That gave the demons time to come out of the doors near the elevator.

There were ten of them, all the same type— kind of lizard-like, what with the green and purple scales, the backwards-bending knees and the tails, but also sort of like a wolf. The head was wolf-shaped, as were the jaws, and there were ruffs of fur growing from wrists and ankles, and a thicker ruff around the necks. They had big, ugly fangs, and long claws on both fingers and toes.

"These we kill," Buffy said. "I'm point, Xander, stick close to my back, I don't want any surprises."

Then they were on us, and I got busy. I'd moved well away from the others, giving myself room to work, and clearing space for Xander and Elaine. (Buffy hadn't bothered with a weapon, but having sparred her, I wasn't at all worried about her.)

I went under the first one's reaching arms (and claws), left my sword out beside me, dragged it across his gut, remembering to lever it forward to make it bite hard— this wasn't a drill. It screamed, bluish-purple blood spattered, and I drove a kick into the back of it's neck, heard the bones snap, moved on to the next one, thrusting ahead with my blade, impaling it through the gut, then jerking the sword back out. It screeched, and tried to get at me again. I blocked it's reaching arm hard with my sword, drove my foot into its groin, got only a short stagger-back— darn that tail!

"No nards!" I shouted, warning the others that a favorite target was useless.

"Got it!" Elaine called. "Neck, weak point!"

"Good call," Buffy said.

I leaped after my wounded target, spinning clockwise, drove my heel into the place where neck and shoulder met, felt the neck break, watched the creature's death-spasm as I landed.

Nothing in front of me, so I looked back. Xander was standing over a dead one, and another was charging him— but he didn't look hurt, did look ready. Buffy was killing her third, Elaine had two bodies next to her, and was fending off a third with her staff.

I decided to give her a little help, seeing the problem that she was having— the tail. With that tail to balance themselves, to prop them up when they were knocked backwards, these things were hard to drive back.

So I cut off the damned thing's tail— about the last foot of the three and a half foot thing. It screamed in pain, whirled on me— and Elaine drove her staff forward in a perfect thrust, landed the butt of her staff on the back of the demon's neck, broke the spine— and it fell dead.

Xander had killed his, and we saw a threat-empty room. Giles and Faith came in, headed for the elevators, and Xander went to look at the security console. He shut off that damned computer voice (which hadn't stopped repeating "Code Red— intruder alert. Magical intrusion detected," yet), and said, "Okay, looks like the next wave is… here."

Six trap doors slid open in the floor, three on each side near the walls, and out came six of the biggest, ugliest, four-footed nasties I ever even imagined.

Take a hyena, shave it, and reveal a rhinoceros-like hide— thick, almost like armor— beneath it. Then paint it an eye-searing chartreuse. Then (because it isn't grotesque enough yet, I guess), cover it in a fairly thick layer of slug-slime. Give it a tail longer than it's six-foot long body, maybe eight feet of agile, almost tentacle-like tail. And for the final touch, make the head longer than any hyena's head ought to be, and make all that extra length _mouth_— like an alligator's mouth, and with twice as many teeth as any self-respecting shark would have.

"Okay, that's some serious ugly," Xander said. "Buffy, you want a weapon?"

"I'm good," Buffy said, and I heard the sound of metal bending and tearing. I glanced back, and shook my head, grinning.

There was— there _had been_— a decorative railing along the top of the security desk, about two inches in diameter. Now the seven foot-long railing was spinning in Buffy's hands as she walked towards the nearest hyena-thing.

"Here, Fido," Buffy said as she stalked towards her intended vict— I mean, target.

Then one leaped at me, and I went to work.

_Interlude:_

Giles and Faith got out on the top floor of the building, and Giles turned left out of the elevator. At the end of the long, door-filled hallway stood a pair of huge double doors.

"Would you knock, please, Faith?" Giles asked, his dry, hard voice making his question one she understood completely.

"My pleasure," Faith replied— and drove her heel directly into a spot right between the twin knobs of the doors, sent them crashing open.

Inside the room was an unoccupied desk, several chairs, and a second door, directly behind the desk. Faith didn't make Giles ask, just went to the second door and kicked it in.

"You really could have just knocked, you know," said the attractive thirty-something woman who sat behind the big desk in the inner office. "It's not like I didn't know you're here."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid that we aren't in quite the right mood for the polite approach," Giles said, stepping in and dropping casually into one of the two chairs across from the woman.

The woman tilted her head, looked at Giles, and said nothing.

Giles returned the favor, stared at the woman.

She looked to be a very attractive thirty-two-or-three. Her hair hung to her shoulders in gentle waves of light brown, with auburn highlights here and there. Her blue eyes gleamed with intelligence, and possibly malice. Her nose actually turned up just a smidge over her wide, faintly smiling mouth, giving her a perpetually curious look.

"Well," she said after a moment. "If you aren't going to talk, I suppose I'll introduce myself. I'm Lilith Marceau, Chief Counsel for the Bloomington Offices of Wolfram and Hart."

"Rupert Giles, Watcher," Giles said. "I suppose you know why we're here?"

"Training exercise for your little Slayers?" Lilith guessed.

"You know better," Giles said. "Given that you know better, why don't we stop dissembling, and get to the heart of the matter?"

"Fine," Lilith said. "What do you want?"

"Jerry Wentworth has committed crimes that, while they cannot be proven in a court of law, are nonetheless despicable," Giles said. "That he committed them at the behest of your firm makes them no less despicable. Therefore, we require that he should pay for these crimes— in a way that satisfies us."

"Jerry's failure to conceal his use of the Telarian Love Draught on Kelly Went—"

"Kelly Killian!" Giles snapped, jerking to his feet and leaning far enough over the desk to cause Lilith Marceau to recoil from him. "You will _not_ dishonor that woman by referring to her by that _monster's_ last name again, Ms. Marceau, or I shall have to ask Faith to remonstrate with you."

"All right," Lilith said, visibly shaken by the violence of Giles's reaction. "So noted.

"As I was saying, Jerry's failure to conceal his use of the Telarian Love Draught on Kelly Killian is an unacceptable blunder, so far as I and my superiors are concerned. His punishment will be termination. And I can assure you, Mr. Giles, it will be quite permanent."

"To be clear," Giles said, "and I feel that necessary when dealing with your firm… please define 'termination' for me."

"Jerry will be killed in a fashion that will appear to have no connection with this firm, or, to reassure you, you or your Slayers, or anyone connected with them," Lilith said. "In fact, it will be an angry sibling of a client whom Jerry failed— through a bit of bad luck, in that there turned out to be a warlock of some power seeking the man's conviction— to adequately defend. The termination will take place in a very public place, and the killer will be caught immediately.

"And before you protest, Mr. Giles, let me assure you that, in magically compelling David Kershaw to kill Jerry, we are, in fact, doing society a favor. Kershaw is a pedophile, and that is not something we have arranged or had a hand in. It's just how he is. A _predatory_ pedophile, as the police will discover when they investigate."

"I see," Giles said. "Very well then. That's part one. Now, on to stage two of my… expectations.

"I have seen Jerry Wentworth's will and his life insurance policy. I know what he specified in each, as to the division of funds and assets.

"You will not interfere or tamper with the will or insurance policy or full payment of same to Jerry's tragically afflicted wife or his daughter, who has somehow overcome her parentage and become a very admirable young lady. There will be no new will discovered by the firm, no superseding his life insurance policy to benefit your firm or any person or organization chosen by it."

"You're talking about millions of dollars, Mr. Giles," Marceau said, lighting a cigarette. "I don't think we can come to an agreement on that, I really don't. Sorry."

"Then you will have a war on your hands," Giles said in a flat, emotionless voice. "A war that will be prosecuted with every resource that I can bring to bear, Ms. Marceau— and I am the last Watcher. I have literally hundreds of millions of dollars at my disposal. I have an army of Slayers who will gladly help to avenge the wrongs done others of their number.

"And if that's not enough… I have the single most powerful witch on the planet, the most powerful wielder of magic in millennia, on my side.

"Do you really think that we won't do you more harm than you will suffer by losing a few million dollars?"

"Oh, please," Lilith said. "Hundreds of millions is nothing compared to the sort of money we can spend on such a war. And you haven't had time to raise a Slayer army, Mr. Giles.

"As for the most powerful witch on the planet… I've seen no evidence of that. After, all, right now she's sitting out in the parking lot, not in here. And I believe that's because she couldn't get in here— our wards are too powerful."

"Willow," Giles said to the air, "do please show Ms. Marceau the error of her thinking."

The building shook for maybe a second— then a window at the left edge of the office blew in, and Willow Rosenberg stepped in through it, as though stepping through a twentieth floor window was nothing at all.

The phone on Lilith's desk rang, an odd ring that sounded like a siren, and she started to snatch it up— but Giles slapped his hand over the phone, then pressed the speakerphone button.

"What is it?" Marceau snapped, glaring at Giles.

"Ma'am, this is Seward down in security," a worried voice said. "The sorcerer on duty reports that every single ward and protective spell we had going was just shut down, ma'am— in the space of a second.

"And he said that whatever did it barely put forth any effort."

"Understood," Marceau said, turning very pale. "Have him begin reconstructing them, but don't activate them, not until I give the word."

"Yes, Ms. Marceau," the security man said, and hung up.

"So . . ." Giles said, "have we reached an understanding?"

"You'll get your way," Lilith almost hissed. "No interference with the distribution of his wealth.

"Now get the hell out of my office, and off of Wolfram and Hart's property."

"In a moment," Giles said. "There is one more thing I need to say. It's not a demand, Ms. Marceau, simply… a warning.

"Stay away from the Slayers. Permanently. If you tamper with so much as one Slayer, and I find out about it… I will end you. You, personally.

"My people are off limits to you. Out of bounds. And if you do not heed that warning, I fear that I will be forced to take out your entire organization… beginning with you."

"Get out of here," Marceau said, sitting down behind her desk and looking away, not wanting Giles to see how much his warning had affected her.

"Good day, then," Giles said. He offered Willow his arm, gestured at Faith to lead the way, and went out behind her.

In the elevator, Faith looked at Giles and said, "To think I once thought you were a wimp. Hardcore, Giles. Hard-freaking-core."

They had barely gone a halfway down when Willow suddenly cocked her head, as though listening, and muttered, "Whoa— that's powerful."

"Is there a problem?" Giles asked.

Before he could answer, the scythe on Faith's shoulder started to ring softly, a gentle, welcoming sound.

"No, no problem," Willow said. "Just… something big. But friendly. Hang on a second."

Then Giles and Faith both heard Willow's voice in their heads as she broadcast to them as well as those downstairs, _Hey guys? You're about to have company, but it's friendly— on our side. So no hurting the person that will pop in… about now_.

The elevator doors slid open even as Willow thought-sent "now," and they saw a disaster area (or maybe a slaughterhouse) masquerading as a lobby. There were more than two dozen demon corpses strewn around the place, of at least three different types. Elaine and Rose were fighting a trio of Hurkulpo demons, eight feet tall, six feet wide at the shoulders, and built along the lines of a medieval fantasy ogre— thick, leathery, purple hide, heavy bones, magically augmented muscles. Xander and Buffy were working against a trio of the same. All four were covered in blood and gore, but only Rose seemed injured, her left arm dangling uselessly at her side.

Even as Faith started forward to help, a bright, silvery light flashed some five feet above the floor about halfway between the two groups, and a human form dropped to the floor out of it, landed in a crouch, then stood immediately and looked around to get her bearings.

The figure was a girl, short, athletic, dressed in loose leather trousers and a halter of leather that restrained C-cup breasts. A leather belt encircled her small waist, and maybe a dozen pouches dangled from it at various points around her body. Leather boots that more closely resembled calf-high moccasins covered her feet. Her hair hung to her waist, tailed, then wrapped for its last six inches in a leather strip, and looked so black that it shone almost blue under the lights of the lobby. Her skin was an odd-but-gorgeous bronze-gold, her eyes dark. Well-defined muscle showed in her arms, and her stomach was flat and hard. In her hands she held a wooden staff, three or four inches short of four feet long, and smaller in diameter for the last eight or nine inches of its length.

She assessed the situation quickly— and leaped to the aid of Rose and Elaine, even as Faith changed directions and went to help Buffy and Xander. The newcomer cracked one of the Hurkulpo demons across the back of the head, causing it to turn its attention on her, away from Rose and Elaine.

"B, catch!" Faith yelled, and tossed the scythe through the air even as she leaped at the demon closest to her.

Buffy caught the scythe neatly, gripped it in both hands, and swung it across the gut of the demon in front of her. As it bent double, trying to catch its spilling intestines, Buffy spun a full circle and brought the scythe down on the back of the Hurkulpo's neck, beheading it in a single stroke. Even as she did that, Xander drove his sword into the groin of the one that Faith was attacking, as it hadn't turned away yet. Unlike the first set of demons that the lobby team had faced, Hurkulpo definitely had nards— and the thing let out a surprisingly high scream of pain and fell to its knees, putting it's neck within reach of Buffy and the scythe.

Even as Buffy beheaded the second of her foes, the scythe again made that welcoming ringing noise— as the new girl twisted the handle-part of her staff and drew a sword from within it.

The blade was a yard long, or nearly so, and an inch and a half wide at its base. It tapered gently for its entire length, coming to a deadly, needle point at the end— but that wasn't what drew the attention of every one who could spare attention.

The outside edges of the blade looked to be the bright silver of polished steel for its outer quarter inch— and the core was the same polished red as that of the scythe.

"That blade— Willow, what's going on?" Giles asked.

"Not sure," Willow admitted. "But Giles, she feels like the scythe— the girl, I mean. Her blade, too, but she personally feels like the same magics are… in her. Part of her. She's on our side, Giles, I know it."

The girl attacked the demon in front of her with her sword, using it much the same was as Rose used hers (when Rose wasn't injured, at least), in the style of a Chinese martial artist or swordsman. In seconds, she'd skewered a Hurkulpo through the neck, killing it.

"I certainly won't argue with that," Giles muttered.

Buffy and the others had put down the last of the trio that was on them, and when they joined the other three… the fight lasted maybe ten seconds after that.

"Giles, Rose is hurt!" Xander called, and Giles and Willow hurried over.

"Dislocated shoulder," Rose said through gritted teeth. "Damned tail on one of the hyena-gators got hold of my arm, flung me across the room. My fault, I didn't anticipate their tails being prehensile."

"I may help?" the new girl said, sheathing her sword again. Her voice was oddly accented, a little bit Chinese, a little bit something else. "I know this hurt, and how to fix."

"Rose?" Giles asked.

"Go for it," Rose said. "She's kind of obviously on our side."

"Will hurt, sharp at first," the girl warned. "Then ache, until… until put medicine on it. Medicine here, but I must mix. Not… not in here. Evil is here."

"Go on, I can take the pain," Rose said.

"Yes," the girl said. "You are Slayer, and strong. And you… pain you understand."

The girl lifted Rose's arm from her side, held it gently with one hand, then placed her other hand on Rose's shoulder and shifted her weight and stance.

"Pain comes—" the girl said, and twisted, pushed and levered Rose's arm around. There was a dull popping noise from Rose's shoulder, and she hissed loudly.

"— Now," the girl said. "Is better?"

"Much, thanks," Rose said. "Um… who are you? How did you get here?"

"Not in here, this place… bad." The girl shuddered. "They do not want us here, those who rule here. I feel them not wanting us here.

"I tell all, explain all. Not here."

"Yes, let's get out of here," Giles agreed.

They all trooped for the door— and on the way out, Rose stopped to punch a stirring Jerry in the nose, knocking him unconscious again, and leaving his nose streaming blood.


	24. Chapter 24

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 24

_Elaine:_

Okay, fighting demons… not that bad. Not with Rose right there with me, and Buffy and Xander.

I pulled my weight, at least after Rose got hurt and needed my help to put things down. Maybe even before then.

Then the weird light and the hot girl with the sword that looked a lot like the scythe popped in, Faith joined us, and we made toast out of the big ogre-things. It felt good, you know? Good to fight, good to put those demon down for good, good knowing that they'd never do Wolfram and Hart's dirty work for them again.

Sword-girl (and where'd she get a sword that looks so much like the scythe?) then put Rose's shoulder back in it's socket, and we left. (Rose popped Jerry one more as we were leaving, as he was waking up.)

Sword-girl looked really nervous about getting in the van, but she did get in— and I started to put things together.

Dressed all in leather, rough leather, not store-bought stuff. Packing a sword that looked of similar make to the scythe, which Buffy had said was thousands of years old. Three feathers braided into her hair at the front, where it was shorter, two on the left, one on the right. Hesitant, slightly awkward English. A little scared of the van.

"You're from the past, aren't you?" I asked as we sat down on either side of Rose.

"Your past, yes," the girl said, opening a couple of the pouches on her belt, mixing some things from each on a little square of leather. "I come to… to renew a thing that is gone. To make it again, better, stronger.

"And for now, I help. I fight with you. I teach things I know. And I help when little Rose Fire-hair feels pain."

She closed the first two pouches, took a third and fourth from her belt— and let out a frightened squeak as Giles put the van in gear and started out of the parking lot.

"It's okay," I said, touching her hand. "It's all right, Giles is in control."

"I have seen these car-things," Sword-girl said. "I never thought to be in one. Is it… a monster? Tamed?"

"No it's a device," I said. "Like your sword, only a lot more complicated."

"I do not think I like." She shook her head, poured a small measure of flaked something from one pouch, stirred the mixture on the square of leather together, and took a small berry of some sort out of the fourth pouch. She squeezed it over the mixed herbs, then popped the remains in her mouth and swallowed as she mixed the stuff on the square to a paste. Giles came to a stop at an intersection, and she grabbed her seat with something like panic. "I do _not_ like!"

"You'll get used to it," I said.

"I am not thinking so," she sighed. She mixed the paste on the square until it was a consistent texture as she spoke. "It scares.

"Rose, move clothes down that I may touch skin on both sides of… arm?" she said.

"Shoulder," Rose corrected gently. "The arm hangs from the shoulder."

"Yes, shoulder," Sword-girl nodded. "Bare, please?"

Rose shoved her shirt and sports bra down off of her left shoulder, wincing a little, and Sword-girl rubbed the paste in on the front, back and top of her shoulder.

"Oh, man," Rose said. "That's warm, and… tingly. Feels better already. Thanks!"

"You are— eep!"

Giles had gotten onto Veteran's Parkway and accelerated rather quickly, and the inertia pressing her into the seat scared Sword-girl.

"It's okay, it's all right," Rose soothed, taking the girl's hand and squeezing gently. "Ssh, it's okay."

"I… please may I keep eyes closed?" the girl asked, suddenly sounding very young. "And… and not speak? I would concentrate on the… the safe getting where we go."

Buffy and Willow had been sharing the seat in front of us, turned to look back at us three, and Buffy reached back and touched the girl's shoulder, said, "Sure, that's fine. Answers can wait— Willow says you're on our side."

For us, it was a reasonably quick twenty minute drive to Scooby Mansion. For Sword-girl, I think it was a nightmare. When Giles shut off the engine and said, "We're here," she opened her eyes and heaved a huge, relieved sigh.

"I do _not_ like the cars," she said firmly. "I will find a horse, make him my friend, ride him to where I must go."

"That may not be possible," Willow told her. "But… well, you really will get used to a car. Really."

"Yeah, at least as long as Buffy doesn't drive," Xander said, cheerfully ignoring the glare she shot him. "Okay, everyone out— let's get inside, get some food, and find out about the lady with the scythe's little brother in her possession."

Sword-girl looked doubtful, but didn't argue. She followed Buffy and Willow inside, skirting wide around the second van as she went.

Rose and I grabbed the bags we'd packed for ourselves, Kelly and Laurie, and went after them. Once inside, Rose said, "Okay, nobody start talking yet— I want a shower, I'm covered in unacceptable _gunk_ from head to toe."

"Come on, I'll show you and Elaine where you're sleeping," Xander said. "Right this way, ladies."

Rose and I had rooms right across from each other on the third floor, and Kelly was in the room right next to Rose. She looked in on her mom and Laurie, saw them both still sleeping easy, and then went into her room. It was as big as her old room at that house, and it had a balcony, too. My room was almost identical, but had a slightly smaller balcony.

We showered together, not for any sexy reason, but to make sure we got gunk-free, then went back downstairs (after another look in on Kelly and Laurie, still sleeping peacefully) to hear the story of the Sword-girl.

Buffy and Faith hadn't come down yet, though Xander was here. Sunrise came down from upstairs leading the three new Slayer girls even as we sat down on the love seat across from Willow and Sword-girl, who sat with her sword propped next to her on the couch, staring in delighted amazement at a plastic cup in her hands. Giles sat to one side, watching with a look of amused speculation.

"It is like drinking apples!" Sword-girl said. "It tastes… wonderful!"

"Apple juice," Willow said. "Really from apples."

"Wow," Sunrise said. "You've never had apple juice?"

She was looking at Sword-girl in a way that I recognized, I thought— the same way I looked at Rose, sometimes. Amazed by her beauty… oh, my, it looked like Sunrise definitely did like girls— or at least did appreciate feminine beauty, which admittedly isn't the same thing.

"Not in this way," Sword-girl said. She looked up, saw Sunrise, and her eyes widened. "Oh! You are… you are Dawn. I am honored to be— no, not right. I am honored to… to meet you, yes, that is right way."

And so help me, she bowed to Sunrise, like one martial artist to another.

"Check it out," Faith said as she came down the stairs. "B, your sister's actually speechless."

"Amazing," Buffy said. She was a couple of steps in front of Faith. "Never thought I'd see it."

"Um, I think you have the wrong Summers," Sunrise finally said. "You want Buffy for the whole honor thing."

"No, I speak rightly," Sword-girl said. "You are Dawn, the Prime Slayer's sister— and I am honored. I will explain, but— beginnings there must be."

"You can say that again," Buffy said. "Should we begin with names?"

"I know names for all here," Sword-girl said. "If I say wrong, please, correct.

"And I know names of some not here— and some resting from bad hurts. Kelly and Laurie— they sleep?"

"They sleep," Rose confirmed. "Peacefully, thank you, Willow."

"They will be well," Sword-girl said firmly. "They are strong— and the medicine woman who comes is wise. She will help Kelly, and Kelly being well will make Laurie's pain less."

"Um, I hope you're right," Rose said. "So… what is your name?"

"Forgive, please," the girl said. She moved to face everyone in the room, stood in front of the giant TV, holding her sword in its wooden sheath in her hand.

"I am Sh'rin," she said. "I have come here from the time of the Guardians, and I would… build them over. Renew them. Make again those who will protect the Slayer line.

"Only not as first time." She turned to Giles. "This time… sir, I do not know what way you want called. Giles? Mister Giles? Rupert? Ripper?"

"Just Giles, please, Sh'rin," Giles said, looking a little flustered. "Did I pronounce that correctly?"

"You say rightly, thank you, Giles," Sh'rin said. "Giles, when last the Guardians were made, they meant to aid the Slayer— and to protect her from the Watchers. The Guardians feel— _we_ feel— that that is no longer a part of our duties. From you they need no protecting— you protect, you not just Watch, but Watch _over_. Is how you will teach others to do. This is good. This is how it should be— and you are loved for this.

"But there are things Guardians can do that Watchers cannot. So this time… we would do rightly, and ally with Watchers. Help them. Show them new ways that are new because long forgotten.

"I am to do this. To help. To show. To teach. To… befriend. Make Guardian and Watcher mean the same. And it has been shown me by the Powers that now is the time, here is the place— and you are the people. I will train in the ways of the Guardians those you train as Watchers who can learn— not all can. Some magics are for women only, such is the way of nature. As are things no woman can do, so are things no man can do. So I train— if she will learn— first she who is the Prime Slayer's sister. Already you teach her much. If I teach her as much… then her love of knowing, her love of Buffy, spread through all like Buffy, can make us one, Watcher and Guardian, two sides of same leaf— as should ever have been."

"Wow," Willow said. "That's… _cool_."

"I see," Giles said, looking thoughtful. "I certainly have no objection— but the decision must, of course, be Dawn's. And for now, at least, it must meet with Buffy's approval."

"Are you nuts?" Sunrise said. "Giles, you know I want to be a Watcher more than anything— and if Sh'rin can make me better at it, well— when do we start?"

"Buffy must say yes," Sh'rin said. "Then… I need to learn of here. Of now. Then… I will teach."

"What will you teach Dawn, Sh'rin?" Buffy asked.

"I will show her of herbs, plants, and the things you can do— like making Rose Fire-hair's shoulder less hurt." Sh'rin smiled shyly at Rose, who smiled and nodded. Sh'rin looked back at Buffy and continued, "I will show her the defense that magic can give, and how to make it happen, to protect. I will teach her the binding of this magic to _things,_ that it may be used by any, not only a Guardian. And I will teach her of the sword, and how it is used. It is… badge? Yes. Badge. To wield it is to be not only a Guardian, but chief Guardian. And when she passes me in knowing, in fighting, she will be chief Guardian."

"I see…." Buffy said. "Well… I want to work out with swords with you before you start working with her, but other than that… Dawn, you've got my permission."

Sunrise squealed, ran to hug Buffy, then went to Sh'rin and hugged her. Sh'rin looked both surprised and delighted by that hug, and gave back as good as she got. (It also looked cute, because Sh'rin is only a little over five feet tall— or maybe a hair under— and Sunrise is five-eight.)

"Now, about your sword," Willow said, as they stopped hugging (took a few seconds, but who could blame either of them?) and Sunrise went back to sit next to Buffy. "Why does it look so much like the scythe?"

"My father made both," Sh'rin said. "From the same sky-rock. When it fell Wind-heart knew the time came to make the Scythe. She called my father from out of time, from far-away China. He made the Scythe, and then this sword from the metal that remained. He made, the Guardians… made with power. Made full of power.

"Father stayed— he would have been killed had he returned to his when in his China— and fell in love with mother, married her— and I came two seasons later."

"Neat," Willow said. "So… does the sword have powers? Like the Scythe?"

"Different, weaker, but yes," Sh'rin said. "It cannot break, this is true of both things. Who holds the sword in battle can… feel things. See the place to hit. Where the weak place is. Who holds it unsheathed sees bad magic for true. No, not right. Sees… bad minds. No, not right yet. Sees minds made bad from outside? That is… I think is it."

"You could see if someone was being forced by magic to do something?" Willow suggested. "Or possession?"

"Yes!" Sh'rin said. "You speak rightly. I still learn, I am sorry."

"You seem to have a strong start on English, at least," Giles said. "How did you learn?"

"I watch in… waking dreams?" Sh'rin frowned. "No. Not right. Magic pictures, made to show real things not yet happened. I watch, and at first, Wind-heart makes the words into the language of the People. Later, I watch again, to learn more and better, and she makes less change to our language. Then again, still less. And again. Slowly, I learn— but need to live now before I speak as you do."

"No, it's quite impressive that you do so well," Giles assured her. "I'm sure you'll improve rapidly with it being spoken around you all the time."

"It is hoped," Sh'rin said. "Now… I ask to know… may I stay here? In your… place? I have no tent, and know not to get one here."

"Yes, of course you may stay," Giles said. "You would help us make a new future for the Slayers… so you are a part of us."

Sh'rin bowed, said, "I am not so honored since given sword on name-day."

"Name-day?" Faith said. "What you don't have a name for the first however many years of your life?"

"No, have name given by parents," Sh'rin said. "But on name day… pass trials. Prove adult. Then am adult, and choose own name. I am Sh'rin, since name day."

"What does that mean?" Sunrise asked. "I mean— you mentioned Wind-heart, and I bet you didn't say Wind-heart when you spoke to her, you said it in your language. Does Sh'rin mean anything that way?"

Sh'rin nodded— and drew her sword, not too fast, not slow. People looked blank, and she re-sheathed it, did it again— and Brianne Dayton said, "Oh! I hear it! It's the sound the sword makes when you draw it!"

Sh'rin laughed and said, "Yes, that is name. I do not be surprised that you hear it first."

"Do it again," Rose urged, and this time, we all heard it; _Ssh-rinnn._

"Cool!" Sunrise said.

"All right," Giles said. "I think we'd better order some food— and someone needs to go pick up Dr. Hodges at the airport."

"I got it," Kennedy said. She'd somehow come in and sat next to Willow without being noticed. "I ate already. All I need to do is hit the web for directions and a map, and I'll get her."

"Excellent, thank you Kennedy," Giles said. He tossed her the keys, she kissed Willow and left while Giles continued. "Now… Xander, you seem to be playing castellan here at Scooby Mansion— why don't you find Sh'rin a room, so she knows where it is when she's ready to go to sleep. And… oh, dear."

"Got it covered, Giles," Buffy said. "She can wear some of my things, when the time comes. I've got a lot of T-shirts and sweatpants she can wear. And later, we can go shopping. But… maybe late, at someplace like Wal-mart that's open all night, so she doesn't have to deal with a crowd." She grinned at Sh'rin, and added, "I think you'll like shopping. You are a woman, after all."

"How old are you, Sh'rin?" Giles asked.

"I am seventeen summers," Sh'rin said. "And… shopping. Do you go there in a car-thing?"

"Well, you kind of have to," Buffy said.

Sh'rin made a face, said something in a language I'd never even heard, then sighed. "It must be. I will go. But… make it slow? It goes fast, is more scary."

"As slow as we can without making other drivers unhappy, yes," Giles said.

"Why go at all?" Rose said. "Shop online. We can get her measurements easy enough, then nobody has to go anywhere."

"Yes, please," Sh'rin said. "Do that. No car-thing. Please!"

"All right, that's a reasonable compromise," Giles said. "But… you will have to learn to deal with riding in a car someday, Sh'rin."

"When must, I will," Sh'rin said. "But I do _not_ like."

She followed Xander off to find her room, and Willow looked around, said, "Okay, heck with it— first night here for some of you, even most of you— this calls for pizza.

"Place your orders, people— and Rose, Elaine, you two decide where we're ordering from."

"Monical's!" we said in perfect unison.

For some reason, that cracked everyone up.


	25. Chapter 25

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 25

_Rose:_

Okay… I was definitely digging this Sh'rin chick! She was just… plain… neat!

(And let's not forget hot!)

It even got my mind off of Mom, for a few minutes, at least.

But not for long. I ate when the pizza came, ate well— Willow, being as used to "hungry Slayer appetites" as Giles was, ordered a ton of stuff to eat, and I ate my fair share and maybe someone else's.

I just didn't really enjoy it, and Monical's is my favorite pizza place ever.

After eating, I sat in Elaine's arms and worried— at least until Sh'rin came over and knelt beside us. (We were on the floor in front of the loveseat.)

"I see you hurt," Sh'rin said, touching my hand. "I do not like. I… you are Rose Fire-hair, you… oh, stupid words.

"Listen… for all of you, the Guardians have own names. Names that tell us who you are inside. See?"

At that point, everyone started listening, but I don't think Sh'rin noticed.

"I understand," I said. "What's mine? Rose Fire-hair?"

"No I say that because not see it before, and it… beautiful, your fire-hair," Sh'rin said. "Guardian name for you… wait, must not say wrong. I . . yes. You are the Undefeated. Not for never losing battles, for all lose some battles, even the Prime.

"No, is for not ever _saying_ you defeated, ever letting anyone _else_ say _they_ defeated. Not say defeated, not truly so— see?"

"I see," I said, smiling at her. "Thank you, Sh'rin."

"I say because you look so hurt, so afraid," she said. "So I must tell you secret thing. I have seen some past this now. I have seen future from now. And I know something that make you feel… Undefeated.

"Your mother… she will be well again! She will survive her hurt, Rose Fire-hair, will find her strength to… to take her hurt and make it strength. Do you see? To take hurt and make angry for strength… it is what you and Kelly have for both. It will be faster than you believe, longer than you like— but you help. I tell you rightly, you give her strength, both by meaning and without meaning.

"She will be well. She will be happy again. She will love again, see love in her own face. She will be like you.

"Undefeated."

I blinked tears from my eyes, leaned forward, and hugged her for all I was worth— and she gave back just as good. Then Elaine hugged her, got the same full-strength hug back.

Then Faith said, "Hey, we all got names from these Guardians— what's mine?"

"I will tell all," Sh'rin said, standing. She walked over to Faith, stood looking up at her. "You are the Renewed. You have found your _self_ again, renewed yourself. Made you whole again."

"Damn," Faith said, much softer than usual. "I… thanks."

Sh'rin just smiled and nodded, went to Buffy. "You are the Prime. It is right so. Without you, none others be here. You are first among powerful. Prime."

"Thanks," Buffy said, and blushed.

"And you, Xander who still sees," Sh'rin said, walking over to him. "You are the Heart. You pull many through hurt, by seeing their hurt with your heart and giving that heart to them to use for their strength."

"Uh… that's a lot to live up to," Xander said.

"You cannot help do so," Sh'rin said. "Is who you are."

"You are the Unexpected," Sh'rin said to Brianne, the blind Slayer, touching her hand lightly. "You will surprise all here, even you. You… never do things how most do them. Never like to do so. You are Unexpected."

"I can handle that," Brianne said. "Thank you."

Sh'rin turned to Vivian, the girl who had been emotionally abused. "You are the Gentle. Always you will fight when the need is, but never will you like to hurt any who do not hurt others. And you… you will make complete the Unborn, who… is not here yet. Yet to meet him, all of you. But you will make him whole, Vivian, make him see that he is people. And you will gentle the hard things in him by caring— for you _are_ Gentle."

Vivian blushed scarlet, ducked her head— but smiled a little.

"You, Sara," Sh'rin said to our smallest and youngest Slayer. "To you I say… there is life. There is hope. You will not hurt for always. These will be your family. Not to replace what you lose, but to stand in place for it, hold that place for it. Never to replace— only to make sure the place where family was does not close.

"With the love of these, you grow to your power as none before. You become the… oh, stupid words, will not make the English!

"You will stand between those who attack and you not fall. You will… change how it is to be Slayer to suit your need. You will Slay— but not first. First you get between others and _stop_. Make safe first, Slay only once others safe. You…." Sh'rin struggled visibly, then said, "You _defend_. You are— yes!

"You are the _Defender,_ Sara— you will be. It is to be so."

"I… think I'd like that," Sara said, speaking for the first time since she'd said hi to us when introduced. "Thanks."

"You have— will have— earned." Sh'rin turned to Giles, smiled, and went to where he stood by the table. He looked… nervous.

"You… to call you the Watcher… not to say enough," Sh'rin said. "So much more in you than just to watch. You are… the Father. You love, care, watch _over_. Teach. All these things a father does— and you do them well."

"I… yes, well— um, yes, thank you." Giles took his glasses off, began polishing them furiously.

Sh'rin came and knelt beside Elaine and I again, smiled a merry smile, and said, "You, Elaine… you are the Dancer. In all things, you dance. You move to music always. Always the grace of the wind, in all things. You fight, you dance. You love, you dance. You _move_… you dance.

"And to see you dance… it is to see magic."

"You've been skewered, Elaine," I said, and turned to kiss her throat.

"Thank you," she said, almost whispered. "Thank you, Sh'rin."

Sh'rin stood, went to Willow. She bowed formally, straightened, and said, "You are wisest woman of your age. Your _now_. Yes, your friends have helped you be so, but you learned. You listened. You broke past pain of loss, pain of need… and learned from both. You have found your strength in love of those around you.

"You are the Wise. Say no word to argue! You are the Wise… and it is to be honored to know you."

"Yeah, but— I mean— that's not— I couldn't have—" Willow sputtered.

"Hush, Wil," Buffy said. "She's right. It's you. The Wise."

Willow hushed— and blushed.

"And your love… she is the Torch," Sh'rin said. "You may tell her. Always burning. Shining the way. Refusing to go dim. Living to burn. The Torch."

Willow nodded, dimpled, and stopped blushing.

"You, Dawn Summers," Sh'rin said, turning to Sunrise. "Someday, you pass me. I know. I like it so. To have student pass teacher… no greater wish can teacher have. You pass me, and I pass to you the blade. Then… you live to name. You make two ways one, make both strong, stronger than ever could be alone.

"You are the Bridge. The way that joins. To teach you, to make you see how to join, to give you ways to pass to others… I am happy, so happy I cannot say.

"You are the Bridge."

Sunrise blushed deeply— then hugged Sh'rin hard and tight before saying, "I look forward to learning what you can teach me, Sh'rin. Thank you."

"Most welcome," Sh'rin said. "I… Rose would you know the names we have for your family?"

"Yes, please," I said.

"For Kelly is only one name." Sh'rin looked at me, at Elaine, at Sunrise. "She loves all who need love, and who have good in them. She gives love even through horror and hurt that would break many. She gives herself, gives her love… she is the Mother."

"Yes," Elaine said, and Sunrise nodded firmly. "Yes, she is."

"She will be to all," Sh'rin said, while I sat and glowed on Mom's behalf— and Giles, probably because of the mental link between 'Mother' and 'Father,' blushed to match my name. "Laurie… never to stop learning, Laurie. Always she hunts for new things, new learnings. So she is the Seeker. She finds much that was unlearned, forgotten. The Seeker, this is your sister, Rose Fire-hair."

"Sounds about right," I said. "Thank you, Sh'rin— for all of this."

"Always welcome," Sh'rin said.

We all sat and talked for a bit after that, Sh'rin explaining about life in her time, the things she'd done for fun, the way she lived— it was interesting and educational in a way ordinary history could never be… because she'd lived it.

About eight, Kennedy came back, and Dr. Hodges came with her. From the moment I laid eyes on Diane Hodges, I knew I'd like her, because she didn't look like a doctor, or a psychologist. She looked like… well, she looked like one of those absurdly healthy ladies in their forties you sometimes see and just admire right away, because they take care of themselves, and they look confident, competent and capable.

Plus, she wore jeans and a loose, comfortable white blouse, not a suit or dress. Bonus points for that.

Her hair was brown, streaked with a gray so pale it almost looked white, her face lined with crow's feet and smile lines— and she'd made no effort to cover those lines. She was tall and lean, almost skinny, and I knew from looking at her that she loved exercise, the outdoors, and that she had some martial arts skills. Not like me, not… those weren't her first favorite skills, but she had them and she kept them sharp— you could tell from how she walked.

I bounced to my feet and looked at her, which she noticed right away. She came to me, looked me over, said, "You must be Rose. I'm Diane Hodges. I'm here to try and help your mother, Rose."

"I know I'm not a doctor or anything," I said, taking her offered hand, shaking it, then holding on for a minute, "but if I can do anything to help, I will. Anything."

"I'm glad you feel that way," she said. "I'll certainly need your help a few times— and some of those may be hard, Rose, hard for you specifically."

"I didn't kill Jerry when I had the chance," I said philosophically. "I didn't even cripple him, or tear off his dick.

"I can do the hard stuff, Dr. Hodges."

"Good attitude," she said. "But call me Diane, please.

"Rose, I want to talk to Giles and Willow for a few minutes, then I'll need to talk to you and your friend… Elaine, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I said, pulling Elaine to her feet. "Diane Hodges, this is Elaine Marshall, the girl I love. Elaine, Diane's going to help Mom."

"I'm with Rose, Diane," Elaine said. "However I can help, I will."

"Excellent," she said. "So… give me a few minutes with Willow and Giles. We'll call you when I'm ready."

She and Wil and Giles went into the study, and I sat back down with Elaine, realized I was shaking only when Elaine said, "Ssh, Rose. It'll be okay."

Sunrise sat down next to us, and I reached out to pull her close, too. She came, and she hugged and held me as tight as Elaine did.

"She'll be okay," Sunrise said. "It's gonna take a while, I bet— but your Mom, she's tough, Rose. I mean— look, being a Slayer's mom? Not for sissies. And Kelly dealt with it, really well. She's been super-supportive, even though the whole 'my daughter will be fighting demons' thing has to be scary for a mom.

"She'll get through this."

"I know she will," I said. "I do— but I'm scared of the stuff that's gonna happen between now and her being okay."

"That's just being sane," Elaine said. "It's gonna be scary, and it's gonna hurt. But you… you heard Sh'rin. Kelly does beat this. And you, Miss Undefeated, you don't let it break you, either. So… we deal. Me and Sunrise will help. Everyone will help. So… we'll get through it."

"Okay," I said. "Just… don't let go, guys, not right now."

They both held me tighter, and it was all right for a bit.

Then Wil stuck her head out and said, "Rose, Elaine? And if you want to bring Dawn for moral support, that's fine."

"Sunrise?" I asked softly.

"I'm here," she said. "Until you guys tell me not to be, I'm right here."

"Better watch it," I said. "That could lead to you seeing some things you might not want to see. Or maybe you would. But I bet you'd blush either way."

She blushed right then, and I laughed. She followed us into the study, and I sat between her and Elaine, facing Diane.

"All right, Rose," Diane said. "We're coming to a hard part right away, it seems."

"Tell me," I said.

"I've spoken to Giles and Willow, and they told me of your mother's initial reaction to being freed from the potion effects." Diane took a deep breath, pushed her hair out of her face, let it out. "It's… going to be hard on her to talk to me at first, and she's very likely to fight me— resist me, not attack me. I can deal— it's my job.

"But I want you to come upstairs with me— just you, for the moment— and be there when I wake your mom and Laurie. I want you to tell your mother you love her, introduce me to her— and then I'm going to need you to take Laurie and leave."

"I… Diane, I could stay," I said. "I could help, get her to talk to you faster, please—"

"No, honey," Diane said. "Rose… some of the things your mother said when she was first freed… 'I never did that, I never would have done that' and 'what did he make me do'— Rose, your mother is— entirely unjustly!— ashamed of some of the things she did with that bastard, for him, did because she was so completely… _subverted_ by the potion he used."

"I know, I get that," I said, starting to cry. "But I don't blame her, I know it wasn't her fault, I know it was him, that _shithead_ Jerry, I know—"

"Rose, your mother will need to talk about those things, and the sooner she can, the sooner she'll be better, the more chance she'll have of being _able_ to get better," Diane said gently. "Now tell me… do you really think she'll be able to talk about things she did that she's _that ashamed of_ in front of her daughter? Would you ask her to… deal with that?"

I sobbed hard, shook my head, understanding— and hating it.

"I know it's hard," Diane said. "And I know it hurts. But I know one more thing; that you love her unconditionally like this, Rose? That's going to be her greatest source of strength."

I nodded, then turned away and buried my face in Sunrise's shoulder, even as Elaine wrapped herself around me from the back.

"You take a few minutes to get this out of your system, Rose," Diane said. "We'll wait in the living room. When you're ready, we'll go up."

I sat, I cried, Elaine and Sunrise held me. I turned back and forth between them, and they never let go of me, either one.

Ten minutes or so later, we went out, I washed my face, and I went to where Diane sat, said, "I'm ready."

She stood, gathered Willow in with her eyes, and we went up to the third floor, and to the room where we'd put Mom and Laurie. Willow stood in the doorway, Diane at the foot of the bed, and I went to sit beside Mom and Laurie. Once I was settled, Willow said something too low to hear, waved a hand— and then backed out and closed the door as Mom and Laurie both opened their eyes.

"Hi, Mom," I said, struggling to sound normal. "Hey, sis."

Mom looked confused for a moment— then that sick, horrified look came back over her face, and I pulled her upright, hugged her hard.

"No, Mom, don't," I said. "I love you, I don't care about what happened— I love you! That's forever, and what someone else made you do doesn't change it, doesn't even affect it!"

I felt Mom shudder, stifle a sob— and I did what I had to do. "Mom… I need to introduce you to someone."

She jerked, realizing that someone else was here.

"Mom… this is Diane Hodges." I took a deep breath. "Giles called her, and she came to help. She's a counselor, and she knows about magic and how it can… be used to hurt people the way you've been hurt."

"Hello," Mom whispered, looking at the bed sheet, not raising her eyes.

"Mom… listen a second? Please?" She looked up at me, tried to meet my eyes, couldn't— and that almost sent me to the land of 'cries like a baby' again. "Mom… I know that you hurt. I can't understand how much, but I can know— and I do. I want— no, I need you to get better.

"That's gonna mean talking to Diane. Yelling at her, maybe. Screaming and crying and throwing things— acting like me when I was three or four, in other words." That got the tiniest upwards twitch of the corners of her mouth, and I felt a little, tiny surge of triumph at getting that. "So… I'm gonna take Laurie, and we're going to let you guys talk. Or whatever.

"I'll come back when you want, and when Diane says it's okay. But… you talk to her. Please, Mom?"

"I'll try, Rose," Mom said, not looking at any of us.

"Good," I said. "Sifu Archer has a saying that might apply, Mom: There's no penalty for failure… but lack of trying is its own punishment."

"I'll try," she said again, not sounding any more sure— but saying it. That was a start.

"Okay," I said. "Hug, lady. Me and Laurie, if your arms are long enough."

Mom hugged us both, didn't even notice that Laurie was crying silently, held on a long, long time— then let go.

"Can I still call you mom, Kelly?" Laurie asked in a tiny, scared voice as we prepared to leave.

"Always, honey," Mom said, her voice breaking. "Always."

"Okay," Laurie said. "Get better, Mom… please?"

"Okay," Mom said. She almost sounded… well, like she meant it. "See you in a while, girls."

"See you, Mom," I said. I hugged her once more, took Laurie by the hand, and led her out in the hall.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Laurie clapped both hands over her mouth to smother a sob— and I pulled her close, hugged her, started walking us away from the door to Mom's room.

Willow was waiting at the top of the stairs, and she looked at us, shook her head sadly, said, "Your room, Rose— I'll send up Elaine."

"And Sunrise, please," I said. "If she'll come."

"She will," Willow said. "I keep half expecting— well, she'll come."

I missed the 'half expecting' remark as I steered Laurie to my room, got her onto my bed, held her.

Sunrise and Elaine came in, laid down with us, and held us while we both cried.

After a little while, I fell asleep.


	26. Chapter 26

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 26

_Elaine:_

Holding Rose and Laurie while they cried themselves to sleep after leaving Kelly to talk with Diane left me wanting to go back to Wolfram and Hart and kill Jerry Wentworth even more than I had before, which wasn't easy.

They didn't sleep long. Rose woke up when Laurie started tossing and turning, moaning in her sleep— and I saw a look of murderous rage in her eyes when Laurie moaned, "Why, dad? Why did you hurt her?"

Rose woke Laurie— who came awake with a little scream— then got up, said, "Elaine, Sunrise, I'm going to take Laurie out on the balcony for a bit— it's nice out. Can we… have a little privacy? Could you guys just stay here?"

"We'll be right here," I said, getting up so they could get out.

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere," Sunrise said. "Not 'til you ask me to, anyway."

Rose took Laurie out on the balcony, and I slid over closer to Sunrise, and when she pulled me still closer, I let her.

"This sucks," Sunrise said. "I… part of me wishes we'd not been able to talk you out of killing him— so I bet it's even worse for you."

"Yes," I said. "It is. But at the same time… we did something really ugly too him. We beat him senseless. Then we took him to the Wolfram and Hart offices, and dropped him on the security desk. His bosses will know that a pair of teenage girls beat him up— and it'll get around the building.

"People won't care that we're Slayers. I mean— until you've dealt with us, we have to be hard to accept, you know? So he'll be the butt of a lot of jokes— 'Jerry got his ass kicked by a pair of little girls,' that sort of thing.

"We humiliated him. For the moment, that's enough."

"Okay, I can see that," Sunrise said. "You know… I think if I see him, just— you know, run into him— I'll kick him in the nuts. Just for fun."

"I'm all for it," I said. "In the meantime… Giles got help for Kelly. Rose and Laurie will be okay— I think Sh'rin's name for Rose will apply to not letting Laurie blame herself, she'll be Undefeated there, too— and if the assholes and W&H aren't scared by what we did today… well, they're dumb enough to deserve what they get if they mess with us again."

"Yeah," Sunrise said. "Sh'rin… god. The things she said to me… a little scary."

"Don't see why," I said. "She's right. You can bring the Watchers and the Guardians together, Sunrise. I know that, Rose knows it— Buffy and Giles know it.

"You can do it, and I'll bet you make it look easy."

"Maybe," Sunrise said. "It's just… a little overwhelming. Not in a bad way, not at all. But… big responsibility. Kind of intimidating."

"You'll do it," I said. "And Sh'rin knows it. And dear god, I wish I could get away with that much leather!"

"Oh, you could in a heartbeat," Sunrise said. "You're just as hot as she is, Elaine, just in a different way. Sh'rin, she's wild-hot. You know, untamed, basic… elemental.

"You, on the other hand, are controlled hot. Every move you make, people can tell you're in control of your body, know what it's doing, where it's going. That's hot, as hot as that wild, 'I could out-wild a wild panther' thing that Sh'rin's got going on.

"And Rose, she's got that perfect blend of cute and gorgeous that makes her hot— well that and how she moves. Different kind of controlled than you, but still controlled. Like… contained violence. The… the _dangerous_ makes her hotter than just her looks, like your grace does for you, and Sh'rin's whole untamed thing does for her."

"Oh, so we're hot, huh?" I said, keeping my voice lighter than I wanted to, so as not to make her uncomfortable. "Is there something you'd like to say about your sexuality, Sunrise?"

"Only that I'm really not sure about it," Sunrise said, giving me a look of naked trust and honesty. "I mean… guys are definitely hot. Very much hot. Some guys more than others, sure, but yes, the guys are on my list of approved sex objects.

"But… look, I find girls sexy, sometimes. You, Rose, Sh'rin, Brianne… sexy. But I don't know if that's 'I like to look' sexy or 'I want that' sexy. I've never… okay, you can _never_ tell Buffy this, but I saw part of a porn movie, once. And that got me… not _real_ hot and bothered, it was too posed, too… too obviously sex, not love, but it did get me kind of hot.

"But that was a guy-girl thing. Despite almost walking in on Willow and Tara about a half a dozen times— Tara was Willow's girlfriend before Kennedy. She… she died. Got shot by a guy who shot Buffy, too.

"Anyway… see, I've never seen two girls doing more than kissing. So while I think girls are sexy, I don't know if girls having sex is sexy. And I don't… I don't want to find out by poking around on internet porn sites. So… I guess I wait.

"Did I just drop a Too Much Information bomb on you?"

"Not at all," I said. "Not even close. And you know, if—"

The balcony doors opened, and Rose and Laurie came in, both red-eyed from crying.

"I need to get violent for a while," Rose said. "I'm going to do out back and do some forms and sword forms. Anybody who wants to watch, feel free to come along."

We all four went. It was about nine-forty-five, but a bunch of people were still up, and a lot followed us outside. Willow, Kennedy, Sh'rin, Sara and Vivian all went with us, while Xander, Buffy, Faith and Giles stayed in, poring over some big sheets of paper and talking quietly at the dining room table.

Rose had grabbed her sword, and I know that's what interested Sh'rin. The rest… well, Willow went because Kennedy wanted to, and Kennedy wanted to scope out Rose's fighting skills. Sara and Vivian wanted to see the sort of things a Slayer could do.

Rose started with a couple of she-made-them-look-easy stretches, then moved into some simple forms to get… unwound. After a couple of those, she stood with her eyes closed for a second, then opened her eyes— and exploded into motion.

It was the most complex of the forms she'd done for her red-and-blue sash test, and she did it without flaw, I think. I know that Kennedy was impressed, and she was a veteran of the Battle of the First.

"What do you think?" Willow asked Kennedy after Rose finished and while she was getting out her sword.

"She passes," Kennedy said immediately. "Oh, yeah— she's good. I'm not sure I could take her myself."

"Oh, sword stuff!" Willow said as Rose moved back out into the yard. "Watch this, Kennedy, she's even more fun with the sword."

Rose started with the sword-only form, and I watched Sh'rin watch her. She very obviously approved, a slow grin spreading across her face. When Rose finished that first one, Sh'rin called, "Rose Fire-hair, you are… not only good. Past good. When light, and after I make not-for-real sword, we must play at fighting!"

"I'm up for it," Rose said. "Now… my absolute best form."

"She got straight tens for this," Willow said to Kennedy. "And _Giles_ said she deserved them!"

Rose did that form as completely flawlessly as I'd come to expect, and it drew gasps and 'wows' from everyone. Sh'rin stared wide-eyed, Kennedy muttered, "I'm asking for lessons," thirty seconds into it, Vivian let out the occasional "that's scary" noise, and Sara… Sara sat on the edge of the patio, hugging her knees and staring with rapt fascination, her face coming truly alive for the first time since I'd met her.

When Rose finished, landing in that pissed-off-sexy-kung-fu-cat pose, her sword pointing right at me, everyone applauded.

"That's my sister," Laurie said. "Always the show off!"

"Let her show off," Sunrise said. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing that."

"Okay," Rose said, barely even breathing hard. "Now… it may get boring. I'm gonna play a little."

Nobody made to leave. Rose blushed, then seemed to forget we were all there at all.

She started moving, attacking, blocking, dodging, a little tumbling, even. Sometimes, she'd not like the way something felt, and do it again, with a different combination of attacks, or a changed order. Other times, she'd repeat something several times, making sure it all worked.

I got it after a very short time. She was creating a form! A combined form, both hand-to-hand and sword attacks in it.

After a half an hour of this, she ran through the whole thing— and we all applauded again.

"You just designed a kata!" Kennedy accused when the applause stopped. "In a freaking half an hour!"

"A form, actually," Rose corrected, grinning. "Only degenerates who use karate call them katas."

"I heard that!" I called. "See if I kiss you anytime soon!"

"You'll kiss me," Rose said. "I'm irresistible. You've told me so yourself."

"Designed a form in half an hour!" Kennedy said, sounding as though she was protesting. "Half an hour, Wil!"

"I've been thinking about it for a long time, Kennedy," Rose said. "Since before everything came together when I got Slayer-ized, even. So really, not so big a thing."

"I don't know about that," said Diane from behind us. "I certainly wouldn't want to make you mad.

"And that being the case… why don't you and Laurie go talk to your mother. She's in the kitchenette on three. Make her eat, Rose. She needs food. And I need to ask you and Laurie something. Come here, please."

Laurie and Rose went to her, and she talked in low tones with them for a minute, got a pair of nods, and smiled. Then she went back in, and Rose came to me.

"Elaine," she said quietly, "Diane says that if Mom asks, Laurie and I should stay with her tonight— and that she'll probably ask. So if she does—"

"If she does, you'll stay with her, or I'll kick your ass," I said firmly. Then I thought back on what I'd just seen, and Kennedy's comments on it. "Or, wait, I'll have Buffy or Faith kick your ass."

"Point taken," Rose said. "Love you, Dancer."

"Love you back, Undefeated," I said, and kissed her. "I'll hang with Sunrise. But… if you think your mom's up to company, come find me at bedtime, I'd like to say goodnight."

"Bet on it, if she's up to it," Rose said. "Just in case… good night, Elaine."

We kissed again (poor Sara seemed fascinated by the casualness with which I kissed Rose, and Willow kissed Kennedy), and Rose packed up her sword, took Laurie by the hand, and went inside at a run.

I went with Sunrise to the library, where I browsed books while she checked her chosen-dot-com email.

"Oh, I got another new mail!" Sunrise said. "I wonder why everyone seems to want to mail me…?"

"I can tell you why Rose and I did," I said, and went through our process of elimination, ending with, "— and your email address and name made it plain that you're a girl, sounded friendly, and kind of normal, so we chose you."

"Wow, cool," she said. "Well let's see what we've got… you can read over my shoulder, you're one of us."

The email came from a Chantelle Rostov, who used the email address 2prec0scious-at-funmail-dot-com, and it had been sent only an hour before, by the time stamp— which was probably a good thing.

_Dawn —_

_Okay, I hate to drop a bomb on people and stuff, but I'm in trouble. See, I sort of beat the crap out of my Mom, but I didn't have a CHOICE! She was trying to kill me (no exaggeration, I swear— religious right poster child, my Mom, and she saw that I'd got all strong and stuff and flipped out, decided I'm possessed or something). The cops are looking for me, and the one person I could stay with is a "known associate," or whatever the cops say. He managed to give me some money to get away, even though I know he couldn't afford it, and he directed me to your site. (You guys should give Whitey a job, I swear— he already knows about vampires and stuff.)_

_So anyway, Whitey's note with the money told me to get a pay-as-you-go cell phone, and I did. I'm in Orlando, Florida, and I got enough money for food, and a safe enough place to sleep (no can hotel, I'm only fifteen), but the money's not gonna last long. _

_So… um, there's one other thing, but I don't want to say it here. Just let's say I got another bomb to drop on people, and I'm probably gonna get a lecture at least for being stupid and irresponsible, but it's too late for that._

_So, much as I hate to say it— HELP!_

_Please? I don't know what to do, and I'm sorta scared._

_My phone number is 863-555-2883. Please, somebody call me?_

_Please?_

_Chantelle Rostov_

"What the hell is it with Slayers and parents?" Dawn asked, sounding angry. "I mean— Jerry. My deadbeat dad— and now this? God, it makes me sick.

"Could you stick your head out and call Giles, please?"

I did, and he came in immediately, as I said, "Giles, newbie Slayer in trouble— Dawn got an email from her."

He read the email, muttered a curse about "religious fanatics" and said, "Bloody hell. All right… Dawn, do you want to call her?"

"It… might be better," Sunrise said. "Elaine sort of raised a point about me feeling 'most normal' of all of us listed on the site, and Chantelle did email me."

"Yes, a very good point," Giles said. He stuck his head out of the room, called, "Willow, could you come in here, please?"

Willow came in, and Giles pointed her at a second computer station. "I need you to investigate ways that a young lady of fifteen who has, in all likelihood, no ID, and, should she have ID, cannot afford to use it, from Orlando, Florida to here."

"Gonna be Greyhound," Willow said. "For which we should apologize in advance."

"See if we can get her out of Orlando in a reasonable time," Giles said. "And how long it will take to get her here.

"Dawn, go on and call, tell her we're working on getting her here as you speak."

"Got it— thanks, Giles," Dawn said.

"Why, pray tell, are you thanking me for doing the job I asked you to do, and doing it very well?" Giles asked, smiling— and Sunrise glowed as she grabbed the phone. "If she will consent, put it on speakerphone, please."

"Gotcha," Sunrise said, dialing. A moment later, she said, "Chantelle? This is Dawn— from the website…. Yes, I know you didn't mail that long ago— it's just luck and good timing, I guess.

"Listen, we're working on helping you now— and the man in charge is here, as well as another Slayer, and the lady who managed to activate you all. Can I put you on speakerphone?"

A moment later, Dawn pressed a button, put the handset down and said, "Still there, Chantelle?"

"I'm here," said a honey-flavored voice, with a southern drawl to it. "So… who all am I talkin' to?"

"I'm Rupert Giles, Miss Rostov," Giles said. "I'm at least nominally in charge here, though you wouldn't always know it. Please, call me Giles."

"Okay, but ever'body has to call me Chantelle— Miss Rostov sounds like some old maid," the girl replied.

"Hi, Chantelle," I called. "I'm Elaine Marshall, the token Slayer in the room. You okay?"

"Little scared, but I'm okay," she said. "Now, who's the lady I got to thank for being all supercharged? 'Cause I got to say, even with my Mom going all Exorcist on me, this is the coolest damn thing ever."

"I'm Willow Rosenberg," Willow said, never lifting her eyes from the screen. "Hi, Chantelle— and call me Willow."

"Okay," Chantelle said. "Hey, Willow… thanks! I feel like about nine million bucks, and I all the sudden get to fight bad guys? Hell, yeah, I'm up for that!"

"You're welcome, sweetie," Willow said, chuckling.

"Good attitude," I said. "So… you know anything about fighting, Chantelle?"

"I'm a scrapper when I got to be," she said, "but I ain't got no training. Well, not much. Whitey taught me some, but then we discovered my knack, and sort of got focused on that."

"What sort of a knack is that, Chantelle?" Sunrise asked.

"I can throw things," Chantelle said. "And I'm damned accurate. Don't even got to be balanced for throwin', I can still make hit a target, most times. Whitey made me some stuff to use if I got in trouble, but I ain't even seen a vamp yet, not since I left."

"What sort of things did your friend make for you?" Giles asked.

"A couple big ol' darts, look like them lawn darts people play with, sometimes, but made of wood an' steel. Long enough to nail a vampire, heavy enough to nail 'em hard." I could hear the grin in Chantelle's voice as she spoke, and her affection for this Whitey guy. "And some wooden throwin' knives, heavier than the usual sort. I asked him for a wooden chakram, like Xena's toy on the show, but he said that'd take a while."

Willow waved at Giles, and he motioned me to talk for a minute while he went and looked over her shoulder— and muttered, "Damn."

"Did you play with a bow and arrows at all?" I asked. "If you can throw, seems you might be able to shoot."

"I surely can," Chantelle said proudly. "Took to it right away— even though Whitey says my way of shooting shouldn't let me hit the broadside of a barn, let alone a bulls-eye. But I do, most every time."

"Chantelle, there's a small problem with getting you here," Giles said. "No need to get upset, we'll just have to send someone after you. But it seems that the police are looking for you, as you said— and they've notified airports, train stations and bus stations. You'll need to be careful, and to stay away from such places until we can get someone there."

"Oh, hell," Chantelle said. "Well, I got enough to eat for a day or two— how far off are y'all anyway?"

"We're in Central Illinois," Sunrise said. "But it's cool, we can get there tomorrow, I bet."

"Tonight," Willow said. "Well, obscenely early tomorrow morning, anyway."

"That's a big relief," Chantelle said. "So… who's gonna come?"

"A moment, please, while we decide that," Giles said.

Willow pointed at herself, then cocked her head, said softly, "A second driver would be good. One who's _not_ Buffy."

"Kennedy?" Giles suggested.

"She needs down time," Willow said. "She's been running herself ragged, keeping an eye on the newbies— between Sara's nightmares and Vivian's, she's not slept much in a while."

"And I'd rather not go," Giles said. "Given… this afternoon's events, I want to be here."

"What about Dawn?" Willow asked. "She's good behind the wheel, friendly, and she is who Chantelle contacted."

Giles hesitated a moment, then said, "Yes, all right. Until we find out what we have to do to get Xander licensed, she's certainly the best second driver."

"Hey, can you come, Elaine?" Chantelle called. "I'd like to meet another Slayer, I would."

"I… can't, Chantelle," I said, my lips going numb and my hands going cold. "I… couldn't make myself get on a plane for Orlando, not now… maybe not ever."

Sunrise immediately got up and hugged me, a stricken "How did we forget that?" look on her face.

"Um, okay," Chantelle said. "If I said something stupid, I'm sorry…."

"Not your fault," I said. Then I made myself say the rest. "It's just… that plane wreck a little while back, in Orlando? My parents were on it to come home."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" Chantelle said. "Hell's bells, I wish I'd known, I'd never have—"

"Not your fault," I said. "No way you could have known, Chantelle. It's okay."

"I'm still sorry," she said. "So… who's coming?"

"Willow and Dawn, I believe," Giles said. "Our plan as of now is to have them fly down there, pick you up, drive to Atlanta, and fly home. You should be here tomorrow night, or perhaps early evening."

She whistled and said, "Look, I'm costing you an awful lot of cash, here. You ain't gotta hurry that much, really."

"Nonsense," Giles said. "I've far more than the needed funds, Chantelle, and I want to get you away from the south as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, we're rich," Willow said. "No huhu, kiddo."

"Okay," Chantelle said, sounding unspeakably relieved. "Okay, thank you, all of you."

"It's our pleasure, Chantelle," Giles said. "But… before we let you get some rest, you did mention that you had another 'bomb' to drop on us. May I ask what that might be?"

"I… Giles, I… shit." She suddenly sounded very close to crying. "Sir, please— I'd really rather not do this over the phone. Please? I promise, I'll tell you as soon as I'm there."

Giles looked a bit taken aback, but he said, "Yes, that's fine, Chantelle. That's just fine, relax, please."

"Okay," she said. "Okay, sorry. It's just… a little bit much. I mean, sure, I got to worry a lot less than some, thanks to being all juiced up, but this is still… scary. And the… the bomb-thing, that's scary, too, and… Judas on a goddamned pogo-stick, I wish Whitey was here. He'd make it all okay. He'd make me safe."

"On that note," Giles said, "I don't suppose I could have a contact number for him? If he's as capable as it seems, and he knows about vampires… I may indeed offer him employment."

"Sure thing— got a pencil?" Chantelle said.

Giles said he did, and Chantelle rattled off the number, followed by, "He won't be home right this instant, but he will be soon— he works late shift at the mall, doin' security. I was gonna call him, soon as he got home. But if the cops are lookin' for me so hard as to have notified the damn bus station, maybe I shouldn't."

"Do you know how Whitey found out about vampires?" Willow asked. "Most people won't know— not don't, _won't_— so it's kind of interesting that he knows."

"I… Willow, I think you'll have to ask him," Chantelle said. "It's kinda personal, so I think I shouldn't say."

"That's fine," Giles said quickly. "And we'll do so, if I decide to offer him a job.

"Chantelle, is he likely to go straight home and to bed after he gets off work?"

"No, he'll go home and check his email, surf the web for news, then do his evenin' workout," Chantelle said with certainty. "Then he'll have an apple, or maybe a pear, read for an hour, then go to bed along about three, three-thirty."

Giles looked a bit surprised at the certainty in Chantelle's voice as she described Whitey's routine, but didn't say anything about that, just said, "All right, thank you, Chantelle.

"I believe we'd best get off the phone, get on with the business of getting Willow and Dawn to you."

"Could you— if you talk to him, could you give him the number of this phone?" Chantelle asked. "I was gonna email him, but the clerk at the demo booth was givin' me the evil eye, so I didn't stick around to do it. And hearin' his voice… that'd do me as much good as knowin' I've got friends comin' for me, right now."

"Certainly I shall do that," Giles said. "Now… we'd best get off the line and get moving."

"Chantelle," Willow said, "Our plane will get into Orlando about five AM. Can you leave your phone on that long, so we can call you when we get in?"

"I can charge it," she said. "There's a working outlet at the picnic shelter in the park I'm crashing in."

"Excellent," Willow said. "We'll call as soon as we land, arrange to pick you up."

"Okay," Chantelle said, sounding as though a great weight had lifted from her shoulders. "I surely do thank you all… and I'm sorry for all the mess. It's just… she came at me with that big old metal cross off the wall, tried to hit me with it, and I just… I panicked, and I guess I hurt her pretty bad, and I… I…."

"You defended yourself," Giles said in a soft, reassuring voice. "Chantelle, you mustn't do this. You did nothing but defend yourself, and if you hurt that… woman, it isn't truly your fault. She attacked you, and you aren't used to your abilities yet, have had no way to get used to them. So please, Chantelle… stop blaming yourself. It will be all right. And none of us blame you."

"Okay," Chantelle said, sniffling. "Okay, I'll… I'll try. But… well, thank you. All of you."

We all told her she was welcome, and she hung up.

"Dawn, if you want a quick shower and change of clothes, that's about all there's time for," Willow said. "We'll need to catch a shuttle for O'Hare in an hour."

"Moving," she said, and bounced up, stopping only long enough to hug me on her way out the door. "If I don't see you before we go Elaine, I'll see you tomorrow."

"If Rose doesn't drag me off to hug Kelly, I'll be around here somewhere," I said.

Once she'd gone, and Willow had left, Giles looked at me and asked, "Elaine, are you any good with these blasted machines?"

I giggled and said, "Yeah, Giles, I can use a computer. I'm not hacker, but I can use one."

"Excellent," Giles said. "Is there a way to use a phone number to get a name?"

"We can try," I said. "Most times, it works— unless the guy's requested that his number be taken out, it should work."

I went to Google, typed in the phone number that Giles had gotten for Chantelle's friend Whitey, and got an immediate white pages listing.

"Whitelaw M. Penobscot," I read. "Eleven-fourteen Ibis Avenue, Sebring, Florida." I shook my head. "Whitelaw? And the M must be for something awful, if he's 'Whitey.' Why do parents do that to their children, I ask you?"

"I've no idea," Giles said. "So… can you search for his name?"

"Sure," I said. "One sec… there."

Only a few links came up, and I knew which one we wanted at a glance, clicked on it, and was taken to an archive page of the Tallahassee Democrat, which was the name of the local paper, I guess. (But… why would you do that? What self-respecting Republican would subscribe?)

"Tallahassee police officer killed, partner critically injured in vicious assault," Giles read. "Dear lord… he survived a vampire attack, though it seems to have been a near thing."

We skimmed it, found the follow ups, got the picture. Whitey had been a cop, twenty-five years old, already a corporal, apparently about to take the detective's exam, when he and his partner had stopped in a semi-rough part of town to break up a fight— which had, in fact, been a vampire attacking a normal person, who'd run off when the cops started fighting the vampire. Whitey's partner had emptied his pistol at the vampire, or at least at something, as the gun had been emptied. Whitey had fired two shots before the vamp turned on him, or so it looked. Details were kind of sketchy— but when other cops had gotten there, they'd found Whitey bleeding badly from the neck, his gun arm broken badly— and a piece of a broken, wooden broom handle in his left hand. There was no sign of the attacker.

Whitey's story, when he was well enough to tell it, showed that he had a brain. He described his attacker, said the guy seemed to be "hopped-up on something, I don't know what," but that he'd been fast, and strong and Whitey didn't really remember much after the guy hit him the first time.

Then he quit. It didn't seem like he'd been forced to quit, or asked to resign, or anything— he'd just quit, moved south, and from the other stories on the Google results, gotten a job as a security guard at a mall in Sebring.

"He seems to have decided that hunting vampires was more important than police work," Giles said. "Look here, this article from the Avon Park News-Sun— 'Penobscot, who frequently performs volunteer police work, chased off a man who attacked fifteen year-old Jennifer Daniels outside the Sebring YMCA while the building was being used as a shelter during a storm and power blackout.' And from the girl's description, the assailant was a vampire.

"I think I need to talk to Chantelle's friend— and she may be right. I may have to offer him a job."


	27. Chapter 27

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 27

_Interlude:_

Giles thought for a moment longer, then sighed. He couldn't do a background check on Whitelaw Penobscot, not like he could have while the Watchers were at full strength. He would simply have to talk to the man, then decide what to do.

He went to the phone, dialed, put it on speaker that Elaine might hear, and waited. On the second ring, a man answered, "Penobscot, may I help you?"

"Mr. Penobscot, we've never met, but I have recently spoken with a friend of yours, one Chantelle Rostov— who is well, and will soon be safe, I assure you— and she has recommended that I speak to you. My name is Rupert Giles."

"As in RGiles at chosen-dot-com?" Penobscot asked.

"Yes, that's quite right," Giles said, pleased at how swiftly the man had made the connection. "I have you on speakerphone that another young lady with Chantelle's gifts might hear— her name is Elaine Marshall. Do you mind that, sir?"

"No problem," Penobscot said. His voice, unlike Chantelle's, had no trace of a southern accent, being the accent-free (to Elaine) Midwestern way of speaking. "And please, call me Whitelaw, if you would. You're helping Chantelle, you definitely qualify as a potential friend."

"And I'm Giles, please," Giles said. "Whitelaw… I have a number for the cell phone that Chantelle purchased, if you'd like it— she said that she'd feel better for hearing your voice."

"Yes, please," Whitelaw said. "I'll call her as soon as we're done speaking— I've been worried about her, but… the police came here first, after she beat that harridan she called a mother down, and I was afraid they'd come back by, so I couldn't just leave the house unlocked for her. And I knew that if she came to me at the mall, the police would hear about it. I did what I could… but I was afraid that wouldn't be enough."

"It was certainly enough, and more than many would have done," Giles said. "Whitelaw… may I ask why you did it?"

"I love the girl," he answered immediately. "She's a wild one, but there's something in her that's… good. She's wild, but she's not bad, not mean— just a little crazy. Oh, and a lot precocious!

"She's a damn good kid, and I love her, couldn't love her more if she were mine."

"I can only approve," Giles said. "Whitelaw… Chantelle said you'd made her some weapons, a pair of darts for staking vampires, and heavy throwing knives. Did you really make them yourself?"

"Yes, I did," Whitey said. "My father was a machinist, did carpentry as a hobby. He taught me a lot, and I learned the rest by trial and error."

"Very useful," Giles said. He thought for a second more, then decided to trust his instincts— and those of a Slayer, who, while he hadn't met her, seemed to be a decent girl. "Whitelaw, you're a security guard, I think Chantelle said?"

"I was, yes," he said, laughing bitterly. "I'm unemployed, as of about twenty minutes ago. No big deal, I'll find something else."

"Oh, dear," Giles said. "May I ask…?"

"I got fired because the cops went to my boss, asked him about my relationship with Chantelle," Whitelaw said, sounding tired. "I don't know what they implied, but from the way my boss acted, Detective Armstrong implied that I'm in a romantic relationship with her, which couldn't be much farther from the truth.

"Larry was already pretty unhappy with me for the way I handle things. I got results, but I didn't get them in the company approved way— pissed him off. You see, I'm supposed to toss the kids out at the slightest infraction of the nine-billion rules of the mall, make them behave by making them afraid of security— and I didn't do that, except with the incorrigible kids. Mostly, I made friends with them, used that to get them to do as I asked. I discovered a long time ago, that's a lot easier."

"I see… Whitelaw, you are aware of vampires, Chantelle said you directed her to our website," Giles said. "Do you know what a Slayer is, sir?"

"I've heard of the Slayer," Whitelaw said. "I'd always heard there was only one Slayer. The website… puzzled me, I admit."

"That was true for thousands of years," Giles admitted. "However… it is no longer true. There are now quite literally hundreds of Slayers. Chantelle is one, Elaine who is here with me is one, and I have seven more under my roof at this moment. I've got a helper working on plans for a… a second house, more bedrooms, for more that will certainly follow. Thus… I shall require assistance. I cannot be the only Watcher, not even the only Watcher at this place.

"I need help, Whitelaw— and one of the Slayers I want to help is a girl you care for. I'd like to offer you a job."

"You're… asking me to help you train Slayers?" Penobscot said slowly.

"Train them, equip them, teach them, watch over them, all of that and possibly more," Giles said. "You've said that you get on well with most young people, and, given your former professions, I'm sure you can bring a sense of authority to the job.

"The pay is quite competitive, and the benefits package as well. We can discuss specifics now or later, as you—"

"I'll take it," Penobscot said, sounding… energized. "I'm in."

"Very well, Whitelaw," Giles said, and Elaine thought he sounded relieved. "Now, given that you've no source of income and Chantelle… implied that your funds are not in the best of shape, may I offer a loan to aid you in your move? To be deducted from your wages over a period of a year, shall we say? No interest, I hardly need extra income."

"That would be… helpful, yes sir," Whitelaw said. "Especially if you'd like me there quickly."

"The faster the better, I think," Giles said. "I can wire you… will five thousand dollars be sufficient? Not a significant portion of your salary, so it won't hit your available income too sharply."

"Not a significant— Giles how much are you planning on paying me?" Whitelaw asked.

"The standard salary for a full-fledged Watcher, as your duties will not permit for the usual training, is sixty thousand pounds— not quite a hundred and twenty thousand dollars," Giles said. "And before you protest, Whitelaw, think on this— Watchers face danger less often than Slayers— but are less capable with withstanding said danger when they do face it— which you will.

"And if that's not enough, you'll be riding herd on at least a dozen girls between twelve and eighteen years of age."

"Okay, you win," Whitelaw said, and he laughed. Elaine liked that laugh, grinned herself, and Giles smiled as Whitelaw said, "Giles, and you… Elaine? Yes, Elaine. May I ask a favor?"

"Of course you may ask," Giles said, and Elaine agreed.

"Don't tell Chantelle about this," he said. "Don't tell anyone you don't have to, and ask them not to tell Chantelle. I want to surprise her— she deserves a _good_ surprise."

"Yes, all right," Giles said, chuckling.

"Oh, heck, yeah!" Elaine agreed. "Neat idea, Whitelaw."

"Thanks, both of you," Whitelaw said. "I can't believe… I get to teach vampire hunters. That's perfect."

Giles smiled, they exchanged the information needed for Giles to wire the money for the move, and Whitelaw said, "Okay, I don't have a lot of stuff… I should be on the road tomorrow— assuming I get told where I'm on the road _to_."

"Yes, yes, that would help, wouldn't it?" Giles said. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot that in my relief at the idea of having another adult around before more girls start arriving."

Giles gave Whitelaw the address, and assured him that, yes, Normal was really the name of a town. A moment later, Penobscot said, "Got it. Okay, Leave tomorrow afternoon, drive to Atlanta, get to Normal… Giles, if I drive the way I know I can, and the weather stays clear, I should be there by or before eight o'clock Saturday night."

"That soon?" Giles said. "Well, you'll certainly be welcome."

"I'm glad you— oh, damn." Penobscot sighed, and said, "In my excitement, I forgot. I have a dog, sir. Well, puppy, he's about eight months old."

"Hmm," Giles said. "What breed is he?"

"Golden Retriever," Whitelaw said. "Big fellow, smart… and housetrained."

"I see," Giles said. "Well, if you will agree to clean up any messes should he, ah, 'break training,' as it were, then I think we can handle it— though I warn you, with a houseful of girls, he's likely to get terribly spoiled."

"Okay," Whitelaw said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir— I couldn't just… give him away. He's my buddy.

"Oh— and I suspect you'll approve of his name, at least. I named him Abraham— for Abraham Van Helsing."

Giles laughed, they said their goodbyes, and hung up.

"Cool," Elaine said. "I know it was just a phone call, but I liked him."

"Yes, I certainly like his attitude," Giles said. "I suspect he'll be a welcome addition."

_Elaine:_

So… another Watcher-type coming. And he'd sounded… well, pretty cool. And he had a puppy! That was maybe the best part of all. I'd had a cat for years, but she died when I was thirteen, and… well, I hadn't _wanted_ to try and replace Ballerina. But a puppy? Coolness!

So I went out and looked at what Giles and the others had been doing, yawning some as I went— it was almost eleven, and I was feeling it.

On the dining room tables were house plans. Looked like almost a dormitory, really— smaller rooms, still big enough to be nice, two stories worth of rooms and bathrooms— looked like eight bedrooms per floor on a two story building. A second set of plans showed a four bedroom house with five bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, all that stuff.

"What's the deal?" I asked.

"Well, we're going to be out of space real soon," Xander said. "Which, okay, sounds amazing, but… there you go. Right now? Two bedrooms left until Willow and Dawn get back with the new girl— and then one, and that one only because Faith has decided to play road-Slayer."

"Hey, you need somebody to run around and handle what comes up where it is, you know," Faith said. "And really? I've had enough of being cooped up to last me a lifetime. Tomorrow I get some wheels, I head for Detroit to see if Giles is right, and there's really a werewolf making the 'burbs his hunting grounds. I find Fido, I make with the silver bullet— I call in and see what's next. It's how I want it.

"Which ain't to say that you couldn't keep one of the rooms in the little house for me, once you got it built— that'd be cool. A place to come home to, sure— but I'm not gonna be much on the stayin', not for a while, you know?"

"Whatever works for you," Xander said. "We'll try to get you here about the time the new place is finished, so you can even get first dibs on a room."

"That'd rock, thanks, Xander." Faith stood and stretched. "Okay, I'm gonna rack out. Been a day, you know?"

"I think we're all about wiped out," Buffy said. "I'm going to bed, too. G'night, everyone."

We all said our goodnights, and I went upstairs, almost ran into a red-eyed Rose.

"Hey," she said, hugging me almost desperately tight. "I was just coming to look for you. Mom wants a hug."

"Good," I said, not moving just yet, only standing and rocking Rose in place. "You okay, Rose?"

"Will be," she said. "It's just… I feel awful. I hated him, loathed him— and I never saw this, never realized—"

"Rose, don't you dare start that!" I said, not believing what I was hearing. "For hell's sake, you had no reason to believe that magic was real, let alone that a shithead like him could have access to a love potion!"

"I know," Rose said in a small voice. "But… it's my _Mom_. I should have done the impossible, that's all."

"Silly girl," I said, and tilted her face up to look at me. "Even a Slayer can't do the impossible before she's actually a Slayer."

"Yeah, okay," she said, and shook herself. "Come on, Elaine— come say good night to Mom. She needs real, not-magical sleep— and so do I."

I went with Rose to the place where Kelly was sleeping, probably would be sleeping for good— she'd like being up on this floor with me, Rose, Laurie and whoever else.

Kelly… she looked so hurt, so tired, that I just wanted to cry— but she found a smile when she saw Rose, and it widened a little when I came in after her, and I saw… well, the lady I'd come to know and love. That's when I knew she'd get better, when I saw that smile.

"Hi, Kelly," I said, and sat down on the bed next to her. "You look tired, I won't stay long."

"I am tired," she said. She looked at Laurie, sitting red-eyed and sniffly, but smiling, under her arm, and said, "Though if it weren't for my Rose- and Laurie-bears, I doubt that I'd sleep tonight, tired and all.

"I'm sorry to keep you and Rose apart, Elaine, but—"

"Oh, don't _even_ go there, Kelly!" I said. "Kelly, you know I love you, you have to know I'm worried about you— I want you to get well, and if that means you need Rose with you, that's fine! I don't mind, and she wouldn't be happy sleeping with me when you wanted her here anyway.

"So hush— and sleep well tonight."

"I love you, too, Elaine," Kelly said. She slipped her arm from around Laurie long enough to hug me, hug me long and tight, then sighed and sat back. "I feel better. But if you really want to make me happy about this arrangement, you'd better give Rose a serious goodnight kiss before you go."

"Definitely not a problem," I said, and kissed Kelly's cheek, leaned over and kissed Laurie's, before standing, grabbing Rose, and saying, "C'mere, you."

I kissed her long and tender, as non-sexy as I could make myself, since we were going to separate, said goodnight to them while Laurie was still giggling over the slightly dazed look on Rose's face after I'd kissed her.

Sleep was a welcome thing, I have to admit.

_Elaine:_

I woke up before six, wandered downstairs, found that I seemed to be the first one up. Okay, not a problem. I went to do my katas, practice my techniques out on the back patio. I finished the last of my katas, turned around, and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Sitting in a chair next to the French doors out to the patio, feet on the seat, knees to her chin, scarred black aluminum baseball bat clutched between her feet and knees, was Sara Lamont, the youngest of the new Slayers… and the other recently orphaned one.

"Good morning, Sara," I said, after my heart started beating again. "I didn't hear you come out— startled me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I guess you were concentrating awfully hard."

"Yeah, I'm still new at the karate, so I was," I said.

"Will we get to start learning that kind of thing soon?" Sara asked. "I want… I want to be what Sh'rin said I could be. The Defender. I want to learn to be… her."

"I don't really know, right now," I admitted, pulling a chair close and dropping into it. "Everything's a little hectic. But I don't imagine it will be too long before you start."

"That's good," Sara said. She looked at me from under her bangs, said softly, "Kennedy… she told us that everybody came back for us later than they thought they would because… because of your parents dying. I… I'm really sorry. I wish…."

"I wish, too," I admitted. "And I wish your mom hadn't died, Sara. But… we can't let them dying make us stop living. That's… cheating them. We can't do that."

"I know," she said in a watery voice. "But… I was so… so happy! I hit the run that tied the game, put us in extra innings, and then I got a triple and drove in the winning run, and… I'd been a good player, before, but not that good, and sure not against Matt Franklin's fastball. And Mom, she was so cool about it, she was taking me out for spaghetti at my favorite restaurant and we were only a couple miles away when… when the other car—"

Just like that she was crying. The bat dropped away from her, and I went to her, put my arms around her, held her, and, like Rose had done for me, I didn't lie to her. I didn't tell her it would be all right, because she wouldn't be able to believe me, not then.

"Let it out, Sara," I said against her hair. "Let it out, you'll feel better after. I'm right here, I've got you."

She cried for a long time, clung to me so tightly that a not-Slayer might have had to worry about breathing. I held her just as tightly, cried some myself, her pain bringing back my own.

I saw Giles open the door and start out— but he saw us, saw Sara actually crying, letting go of a piece of her hurt, and went back inside without a word.

She finally stopped crying after a while, and I went in long enough to grab a box of tissue for us both. We blew our noses, wiped our eyes, and she hugged me again, hugged me a thank you.

"I do feel better," she said in a small voice. "Thank you, Elaine."

"You're welcome," I said. "Sara, it made me feel better, too. So… if you need to talk, or want someone to scream at, or cry on… come find me?"

"I will," she said. "You… well, you're the coolest."

"Thanks," I said. "But you've got me confused with Rose. She's cooler, I'm just a better dancer."

"Dancers are cooler than martial arts people," she said. "And dancers who are martial arts people? Maximum cool."

"Just wait 'til you fall in love," I said. "Then you'll get it— it's not possible to be cooler than the person you're in love with, that's all."

"Okay, but I'm not in a hurry or anything," she said as we went in. "I'm only twelve, you know."

"Good point," I said, following her to the stairs. "But you'll know, someday, when you meet him. Or her, I suppose."

"I don't know," Sara said. "If I like girls, I mean. Don't think so, not that way, anyway. But guys… can I have Brad Pitt for Christmas? Please?"

"I'll get you Brad Pitt if you get me Summer Glau," I said. At her puzzled look, I said, "She's on that show Firefly— plays River Tam?"

"Oh, okay," Sara said. "I've seen her. And you just want her 'cause she's a dancer."

"That and she's gorgeous," I agreed.

Sara split off at the second floor, and I went to my room on the third, showered and went downstairs, following the heavenly smell of cooking bacon, sausage and eggs. I walked into the kitchen, and I nearly fainted and fell in the floor.

Kelly was standing at the stove, expertly flipping a couple of eggs that were so barely congealed I'm surprised that they stayed in one piece. Brianne sat next to Laurie at the kitchen table, Rose on Laurie's other side, watching her mom closely, and chatting lightly with Sh'rin. Giles and Xander sat at the island counter on tall chairs, across from Buffy and Faith, all of them eating eggs, bacon, sausage, ham and various breads.

"See, this is another good reason to be all mobile and on the road," Faith was saying to Buffy between bites. "If I stay away for six months, I'll come back and be able to kick your ass, 'cause you'll be all fat on Kelly's cooking.

"Kelly this is great— poached eggs, I thought they were a lost art, you know?"

"Thanks, Faith," Kelly said, and gave her a small, strained smile— _but it was a smile!_

"You may have a point, Faith." Buffy sat back, looked contentedly at her empty plate. "Xander, will you still love me when I'm fat?"

"Sure thing, Buff," Xander replied. "After all, you still love me, and I'm fat."

"You could lose some, X, but you ain't fat," Faith said. "And hey, you ate a lot less than I did this morning."

"Gotta lose the weight to keep up with just _one_ Slayer," Xander said. "And there's seven here, one more coming today, and god knows how many once we have more room. The Xander must regain his manly body, that he may sweep some ingénue Slayer properly off of her feet."

"I can help, Xander," Buffy said. "I know this foot sweep that works every time."

"Oh, ha-ha," Xander said. "Buffy, I didn't mean literally— I'll leave that to you. No, I will be the figurative sweeper of feet, and I shall— you know, this metaphor's just _not_ working, never mind."

Buffy, Faith, and those of us at the table cracked up, and Giles even chuckled a little— while Kelly smiled again.

After breakfast— Kelly remembered how I like my eggs without asking, which, okay, no big— but now, feeling like she had to? I felt… well, honored. Anyway, after breakfast, Giles suggested that Rose and I take Sh'rin and do some online shopping, handing Rose a credit card and writing down the information she'd need to use it.

"Don't skimp," Giles said. "I want her to have clothes for all occasions and seasons— but do try to keep under a million dollars, won't you?"

"Oh, well, so much for shopping the Paris boutiques," Rose said, and hugged her mom before we three went to the library, Sh'rin padding along barefoot, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

We got Sh'rin outfitted well and truly (after tickling her silly while measuring her), had all the stuff set for next-day delivery (paying extra for Saturday delivery), and went to goof off.

Kelly wasn't around when we went back out, and Giles told us Dr. Hodges had come, and they'd laid claim to the parlor on the third floor.

Faith got Kennedy to take her to a car dealership, where she was going to buy a car on Giles's credit card, then send the card home with Kennedy and get on her way to Detroit.

Kelly didn't come down for lunch, but Diane came down and got a tray for them, told Rose that Kelly was working really hard at this, much harder than most people could so soon after such an event, then disappeared.

After lunch, Rose and I snuck upstairs and made love. We made ourselves be quiet, which, okay, involved some badly bitten pillows, but we didn't freak anybody out at least. We showered quickly and went downstairs about two— and we'd barely hit the bottom of the stairs when the front door opened, and in came Sunrise, tugging a cute little blond by the hand. Willow came in right after, and said, "Ta-daaa! We're home!"

"Wow, we weren't expecting you until supper time!" I said, and hugged Sunrise before letting Rose have a turn at that. "What did you do, teleport?"

"No, I can do that, but it's a bitch," Willow said. "No, I just used Dawn's head, and changed our plan of return a little.

"But never mind that— Dawn's about to burst for wanting to introduce you two."

"Guys, this is Chantelle Rostov," Sunrise said, pulling the girl forward a little. "Chantelle, meet the Chosen Couple— Elaine Marshall is the taller one, and the redhead is— appropriately enough— Rose Killian."

"Hey," Chantelle said, her voice even more easy on the ears in person than on the phone. "I'm glad to meet you two. Way I hear it, I want to learn to fight from Rose, and learn to dance from you, Elaine."

She grinned, and I knew I liked her. She had one of those smiles, the kind you want to smile back at. Also, she was cute as hell! Five-one, maybe, slender, but with that Slayer tone, B-cup breasts (complete with no bra, and very hard nipples that poked the fabric of her light-blue T-shirt out in a crazy-making way), legs that looked like they belonged on a serious runner, visible below the extremely short and low-riding denim shorts that she had on. Blond hair to just about midway down her back, straight and pale, a slight tan and light brown eyes. A mouth that seemed made to smile, dimples in both cheeks, and a nose that turned up just a smidge. Like Rose, she had a few freckles, though hers were in two neat patches on her cheeks, didn't reach her nose, like Rose's did.

"You can have dance lessons if you teach me to throw a stake," I said. "Nice to meet you in person, instead of just over the phone."

"Same for fighting lessons," Rose said. "I hear you're a prodigy with a thrown weapon."

"Good lord, Willow? Dawn?" Giles had come out of the library to see what the hubbub was, and stood staring blankly at them. "How on earth…?"

"Simple enough, Giles," Willow said, nudging Dawn, who went to the kitchen, came back out with everyone who'd been in there while Willow was still talking, and went upstairs to gather the others who were up there. "We got to Orlando, went to get a car, and while I was getting that done, Dawn went to get us directions online. While looking at the route, she noticed that there was a town big enough to have an airport right across the Georgia line, and checked it out. Turns out they run regular shuttle flights to Atlanta from there. So we made a change of plans, caught a shuttle plane to Atlanta in Valdosta, and a connection straight to Bloomington from there— and bang, three hours of travel time, maybe four, trimmed because Dawnie was paying attention."

Dawn came back down then, leading everyone— even Kelly and Diane— and Giles said to her, "Dawn, if you continue to impress me like this, I'm only going to pile more work on you, you realize?"

Sunrise gave him a big smile and said, "Okay. I've got a lot to learn, might as well learn by doing."

"Are you sure you're my sister?" Buffy asked. "I could have sworn you were a lazy little brat not all that long ago."

"Gotta grow up sometime," Sunrise said. "I guess I just got tired of waiting for you…."

"She shoots, she scores!" Xander cackled. "The Dawn-meister hits from the three-point line!"

"Okay, you get that one free, because I walked into it and I want to meet our new Slayer," Buffy said. "But next time? Those fighting lessons you want…? I don't have to wear pads, you know."

"Okay, everybody," Sunrise said, tugging Chantelle to the living room so we could all sit. "Remember, you've only got to remember one new name, she's got bunches, and don't get miffed if she scrambles names a little for a bit— unless she call one of you ladies Xander or Giles, or one of you guys a girl's name. Then you can get miffed."

She then went through everyone, summing up who they were in terms of household neatly, and pleasing the hell out of Kelly when she said, "And this is Kelly Killian, Rose's mom, and kind of house-mother to all of us. And if you're smart, you'll beg her to make chicken sometime soon."

"Soon, then," Kelly said— and smiled again.

Once everyone had been introduced, Chantelle turned to Giles and said, "I made you a promise last night, Giles— time to keep it."

"If you'd rather talk in private, we can adjourn to the study," Giles offered.

Chantelle took a big breath, then said, "No, I appreciate that, sir— but there ain't a lot of point to it, 'cause everyone's gonna figure it out sooner or later, and I'd rather just get any shoutin' or lecturin' out of the way at one time."

"All right then," Giles said. "But Chantelle, I will promise, in return for your honesty, to make every attempt not to shout, or even to lecture."

"Well… I don't s'pose the rest of y'all who are grown up would go along with that, would you?" Chantelle asked, looking around. Her accent got thicker as she got upset, I noticed, and I could see that she was genuinely scared.

"Promise," Buffy said. "I promise, Chantelle."

"No shouting," Willow agreed. "No lectures. Unless it's about magic, then I may lecture a little. But I'll try not to."

"I don't know if you're including me with the grownups," Xander said, "since most people tell me I'm an overgrown kid, but me? Lecture? Not gonna happen. Lectures make me think of high school, and considering that I went to high school on a Hellmouth? That's enough to make me never, ever lecture."

"No lectures, Chantelle," Kelly said. "I promise. No shouting, either."

"I'm a guest, it would be horribly rude to lecture you," Diane said.

"Okay," Chantelle said, her voice shaky and scared. "I just… I ain't even told Whitey, and he's my best friend in the whole world. I was gonna, but things got crazy and I… never worked up m'nerve."

"It's okay," Rose said. "Seriously, Chantelle, it'll be okay. Nobody's gonna yell."

"Okay, I… aw, shit, I guess I'd best just say it out," Chantelle said. She took a big, deep breath, let most of it out slow, then said in a small, scared voice, "I'm pregnant. 'Bout six weeks."

"Oh, my," Giles said, very mildly. "Chantelle… I understand your worries, now— but I feel no need to either lecture or yell."

"Sweetie, it's okay," Willow said, and came to hug her. "It's okay. No yelling, see?"

"Chantelle, it's all right," Kelly said. "It's good that you told us— I suspect Giles will have to change your training program."

"Y'all… y'all ain't mad?" Chantelle said, tears of relief spilling from her eyes. "Seriously ain't mad?"

"No, Chantelle," Giles said. "None of us are mad— look around. No one's angry, or upset. Concerned, yes— but not upset."

"I… aw, damn, I hate cryin' over stupid stuff like this, but—" She gulped, took a breath, said, "I was afraid you wouldn't let me stay."

"Never a danger," Giles said. "Now… there are other things we should discuss. Would you like to take that into a more private area?"

"I don't think so," Chantelle said. "I think… I can guess some of what you're gonna ask, and I… I'd rather just get it all out of the way.

"The father's a sixteen year-old asshole. He's the only guy I ever had sex with, he knows he's the only guy, and when I told him, the first words out of his goddamned mouth were, 'It ain't mine.' I don't want anything to do with him, not now, not ever again.

"I want… I ain't got no right, I know, not when I'm gonna be relyin' on the kindness of you folks, but I really, really don't want to give up this baby. And I don't want no abortion— unless… I was pregnant when I got the power. Is that gonna hurt the baby? Can you say?"

"Dear lord, I never thought of that," Giles said. "Willow, can you hazard a guess?"

"It won't hurt her," Willow said, looking at Chantelle with a kind of concentration that I'd seen before— when she was doing magic. "And it is a her, Chantelle— the magic says so.

"Giles, the baby's a girl— the power of the scythe that I released, it _can't_ hurt her."

"I'm gonna have a little girl?" Chantelle said, lighting up the room with a smile that said to me that she was going to be a great mom, and never mind her age. "You serious, you know it'll be a girl?"

"I'm sure as taxes," Willow said. "She's a girl— and she's healthy as could be."

"Willow speaks rightly," Sh'rin said. "The powers of the scythe, used as she did… they could not hurt the baby Chantelle grows. They will protect, make safe, make healthy and well.

"It will be well."

"Well, that does seem to cover my questions," Giles said. "All right. You may certainly keep the baby, Chantelle.

"That's settled. Now… Chantelle, we need to make an appointment with an obstetrician for you, and then… let me think…."

"You think, Giles," Sunrise said. "I think Chantelle would like to pick her room. And we should get her bag out of the car."

"I'll get the bag," Xander said. "Dawn, there's two rooms on the third floor, that's all that's left. Lady's choice, they're both clean, and we changed out the sheets in the one Faith slept in."

"I ain't picky," Chantelle said. "So long as there's a bed, I'm good. And a bathroom close would be good."

"Every bedroom has it's own bathroom," Dawn said. "You're good there."

"My own bathroom?" Chantelle said. "Okay, wait— y'all didn't yell at me at all, you're helping me no questions asked, you're treatin' me like I belong, and I get my own bathroom to myself?

"Okay, that's it— I got run over tryin' to hitch to Orlando, and this is a clerical error that let me into heaven."

They started upstairs on a wave of laughter, and Kelly said, "Diane…? I think I'd like to cook supper. If no one minds?"

"Minds!?" Buffy said. "Kelly, do we _look_ stupid? Diane, please say yes! We'll invite you, even!"

"In that case, please, feel free," Diane said, laughing.

She and Kelly started for the kitchen, Giles and Xander went off to talk over building stuff, and the rest of us, inevitably, started talking about baby showers, baby names, and all that stuff.

We stopped when we heard a horrible clanging from the kitchen, and Kelly cried, almost _screamed,_ "Oh, GOD!"

Rose was gone before any of us saw her move, and I was second in line.


	28. Chapter 28

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 28

_Interlude:_

Jerry Wentworth strode out of the courtroom at a little after two, grinning and swaggering. He might have been humiliated at the office, gotten a dressing down from Lilith Marceau, and a worse one from the ghost of Holland Manners, might have had thousands of dollars charged against him for magical healing after the beating Rose and her dyke girlfriend had given him, but he was still a god in the courtroom.

The prosecution had what they thought was an open-and-shut case against Phillip Gruenwald, a virtually sure conviction of the rape of a seventeen year-old girl. Jerry had turned it into a not guilty verdict, and without the help of magic of any sort. The boy had done it, been proud of "giving her what she asked for," had told Jerry as much— but Jerry had gotten him out of it.

He led the boy out of the Law and Justice Center, unsurprised to see television crews from the three big Peoria stations there— after all, Phillip Gruenwald's father was the deputy mayor over there.

He led the boy out, called for calm, then gave a statement prior to taking questions— this was the best part of being a lawyer.

"Ladies and gentlemen, all that occurred today was a perfect example of why the American court system is the best in the world," Jerry said. "The charges against my client were vindictive and false, and that has been proven in a court of law.

"This is what the justice system is all about— seeing to it that the innocent remain free. I promised Phillip Gruenwald that I would keep him from being wrongly convicted, and with the help of twelve intelligent and thoughtful men and women on the jury, I was able to keep that promise."

"You didn't keep it for my brother, did you?" called a voice from one side, and Jerry looked over to see a vaguely familiar man, tall, skinny, balding, dressed in what was probably a nice suit, once. "You promised Andrew that he wouldn't go to jail, you bastard— and he's rotting away up in Pontiac!"

That brought the man to the forefront of Jerry's mind— David Kershaw, brother of Andrew Kershaw, who'd made the mistake of seducing, having sex with, and photographing and filming the sex he had with an eleven year-old girl— whose father was a very powerful warlock. Jerry hadn't been able to prevent the conviction, not that time.

"Mr. Kershaw, no one is perfect," Jerry said. "I've already filed an appeal, and I'm sure that—"

"LIAR!" Kershaw screamed. "You haven't done SHIT! Just because we haven't finished paying your fucking bill, you're letting Andrew ROT!

"SCREW YOU! LYING BASTARD!"

Kershaw's hand came out of his jacket pocket, and Jerry saw the gun in his hand, tried to move, saw the flash of light —

But he never heard the shot that killed him.

_Rose:_

I heard something big and metal hit the floor in the kitchen, heard Mom yell— almost _scream_— "Oh, GOD!"

I moved faster than I ever have in my life getting to her. Sunrise told me later— and everyone agreed— that I actually _blurred._ A little. Kinda scary— but good to know that when I absolutely have to, I can move that fast.

Mom was standing at the counter in the kitchen, staring at the little TV there, staring and crying— and _grinning_. Not a nice grin, a hard, savage, "take-_that_-you-bastard" kind of grin. A big baking sheet on the floor to one side of her explained the crashing noise, but I couldn't imagine anything that would make her both cry and grin like that.

Diane was standing behind Mom, a hand on her shoulder, but Mom didn't seem to even notice.

Even as I skidded to a halt beside her, Mom _hissed,_ "Yes, thank you god, _yes!"_

I looked at the TV as Mom reached out to turn the volume way up, saw a "special bulletin" logo for channel 25 out of Peoria, and a bunch of people milling around someone on the ground, a couple of cops wrestling with a skinny guy on the ground, and a shaken, scared looking reporter standing there.

"I… Tom, things are very chaotic just now," the lady reporter said. "Police are trying to subdue the man who just shot Jerry Wentworth, lawyer of Phillip Gruenwald, and more officers are trying to treat Mr. Wentworth, but… I don't think…."

"What the hell?" I said, and for the first time in my life, Mom didn't give me a glare for cussing.

"Kelly," Diane said in an urgent voice against Mom's ear, "Laurie's coming in."

Mom— she looked torn apart for a second. Part of her wanted to cheer, and the rest of her knew how much that would hurt Laurie.

Love won out over revenge. Mom wiped her face, took me by the hand, and pulled me towards the doorway, where people parted to let us see Laurie standing there, looking hurt, scared and… uncertain.

"Is… is he dead?" Laurie asked, looking like she didn't know what she was supposed to feel. "I heard them say he got shot. Is my Dad… dead?"

Mom said, very softly, "I think so, honey."

Laurie nodded once, said, very, very quietly, "Good"— and fainted.

I caught her, and Elaine caught me as I went overbalanced from my sudden movement and went down. Then Diane was there, checking Laurie's pulse, a concerned-but-not-worried look on her face. She nodded after a moment, said, "She's okay. Just… the shock of what happened, and how it makes her feel— she couldn't handle the mixed emotions.

"Kelly, can you help her, or do you need time to deal with this yourself? Don't bullshit me, either— you push down what you're feeling now, and you hurt Laurie worse later."

"I… need a little time," Mom said. "I need… I need to run, or scream, or— I want to hit something!"

I didn't think, I just started giving orders, making priorities, putting things in the order they had to go in. How I knew, I don't know— but I knew what to do, what order to do it in.

"Willow, would you float Laurie upstairs, please?" I asked. "Mom's room, not hers. Elaine, love… go with Laurie? And you, Sunrise? She loves you guys more than most.

"Mom, come with me."

"Rose, there's a gym in the basement," Xander said. "There's a couple of punching bags down there."

"Could you show us, please?" I asked.

Xander led us downstairs, showed me the workout room they'd put together in the basement, squeezed my arm, nodded at Mom, and left us alone.

"Okay, Mom," I said. "Before you start hitting the bag, let me show you how to do it without hurting yourself…."

Mom listened, punched a time or two to make sure she had it right— then tore into the bag while I held it, punched it over and over, at first making no noise, then adding little growl-snarls of hate and hurt, and, near the end of things, screaming "You BASTARD! You filthy son of a BITCH!" over and over as she lit into the bag.

Then she stopped hitting, started crying, and I went around and got my arms around her, and we sat on the floor and cried.

After a while, we went upstairs, and found Buffy in the kitchen, on the phone.

"No, Sergeant, I don't think that Kelly's really up to talking to an officer, not just yet," Buffy was saying. "Yes, they were having problems— that's why she was staying here— but this still came as a shock. And Mr. Wentworth's daughter saw it, too— Kelly needs to help her before she thinks about talking to you… yes, I'll have her call as soon as things are a little more under control. Thank you, sir."

Buffy turned, saw us, said, "Giles thought we should call the police, tell them you're here, before they get any funny ideas. So… you guys had a fight, a bad one over something to do with Rose, on Thursday. That's why you and the girls are here. They want you to call them as soon as you can, but they're giving you some slack because you saw it on the TV, and Laurie heard it."

"Thank you, Buffy," Mom said. "Thank you for… everything."

"You're welcome," Buffy said. "Go on, go take care of Laurie. Wil's up there, she made sure Laurie wouldn't wake up before you got things out of your system."

Mom nodded, squeezed Buffy's hand in passing, and we went upstairs to take care of poor, hurt, confused Laurie.

Mom handled it like the lady I'd always loved— perfectly. I helped, we all cried— and Laurie started to get better. Her own confusion— mixed love and hate for Jerry— were the hardest parts for her, but we helped, and Diane Hodges helped, and Laurie got better, over time.

Jerry's death… it did something for Mom. Set her free, sort of, free of that niggling fear that he'd _do it again_— and that gave her a new sense of strength, strength she passed on to Laurie.

And you know, after that day, after waking up scared and hurt and finding Mom and I right there, ready to help, wanting to help, even needing to help… after that day, Laurie never called Mom "Kelly" ever again, or used the word "stepsister" to describe her relationship with me.

Jerry's death… it made those of us who survived him into a family, stronger than before.

So I guess the miserable bastard served some useful purpose, even if he had to die to do it.

Mom got a by on cooking supper that night. Once we had both decided Laurie would be okay, she did call the police, talked to the detective who came, both of us sitting in the living room with him, and everyone else technically out of earshot.

"May I ask what you fought about?" the detective asked after mom had explained that we were here because there'd been an argument. I answered, and he looked at me closely while I did so.

"They fought about me," I said. "Jerry and I never liked each other, and he and I argued Thursday morning. He caught me kissing my girlfriend, and he… sort of blew up. It was only an argument at first, but… he put his hands on me, and I sort of… snapped. I've got my instructor's rating in kung fu, and when he grabbed me, I… I let him know I wasn't going to stand for that. I didn't hurt him, just arm-locked him and walked him to the ground, but… it humiliated him, and he said I'd not be allowed to take kung fu lessons anymore. Then mom came in, and it got worse, and… I called him a name he didn't like, and he called me a little bitch, and pretty soon, we were packed up and asking our friends if we could stay here."

"Why didn't you take your car, Mrs. Wentworth?" the detective asked.

"Kelly, please," Mom said. "The car's in both our names. I didn't want him accusing me of stealing it, and… well, he seemed mad enough that he might. So I asked Willow to pick us up, and she did."

The detective asked a few more questions, mostly detail stuff, told Mom that she'd get copies of the death certificate from the funeral home, then left.

Mom and I spent that night mostly with Laurie, though she did come down for dinner— and after we'd eaten, while it was being decided who would be cleaning up, Sara Lamont came over, sat beside Laurie, and said, "Hey. Um, we don't really know each other, but… look, I… my mom died not so long ago, and… if you want to talk or need to yell at somebody, I'm in the last room on the right on the second floor."

Laurie immediately hugged Sara— and I saw Giles shoot a look at Elaine, a look of "Well done," figured that Elaine and Sara had talked at some point from that, gave my Dancer a smile of my own for that.

Me, Mom and Laurie puppy-piled again that night, and Laurie managed to sleep the night through.

The next day, Giles took off with several of the others early in the morning. Xander, Willow, Buffy, and Kennedy went with him, and no one seemed to know where they'd gone. So the rest of us just stuck together, except that Mom and Diane went off for more therapy for Mom— Jerry's death gave her an edge, sure, but it didn't beat back all the things that he'd done to her. It just made her able to stop being afraid that he'd do it _again,_ didn't undo that he'd ever done it.

Laurie and Sara went off to the stream at the back of the yard, sat and talked together for a while, and we left them alone.

Sh'rin and I sparred with blades while the others watched, and I discovered really quickly that she could take me— with just swords. She was the best swordsman I'd ever seen, cat-quick, strong, sure of herself, and she had skills that left me a ways behind her.

But mix it up, make it swords-hands-and-feet, and I won easily. She didn't think about fighting with anything but the blade while she held a blade. But I liked her attitude— as soon as we stopped after the fourth time I clearly won a bout, she hugged me (yum!) and said, "I ask you to teach. I not fight so, not ever— I would learn."

"You'll need to learn the hand-to-hand skills really well before you can put them into sword fighting," I warned.

"Then I will learn." She gave me a smile, said, "I have time. I have teacher. For learning, nothing else is needed but wanting— and I want!"

"Okay, well… might as well get started now, right?" I said, and she nodded.

"Wait," Vivian said, standing up. "Can I… join you? I want to learn."

"No problem," I said. "Get some sweats on, I'll wait."

"Me, too— if you can?" Brianne said.

"I can't see why not," I said. "I can teach you the movements, the motions— and later we can worry about targeting. Which… sometimes I know a blow is coming without seeing it, so I'm thinking, not so much of a challenge as a non-Slayer would be."

"Sweet!" Brianne said, and got up, went to the doors and inside. You'd never have known she was blind, not from casual observation.

"Rose, Sara was asking when I thought the new girls would start lessons, yesterday," Elaine said. "Can I go get her?"

"Make it an offer," I said. "If her and Laurie want to talk, I don't want to push either of them."

"How about me?" Chantelle asked. "Is this somethin' I can learn without riskin' hurtin' the baby?"

"I think so," I said. "No contact planned, just… teaching the basics of movement and striking.

"But could you put on something a _lot_ less distracting, Chantelle? Please?"

She laughed, stood up, agreed and went to change. She had on bright red, nylon micro-shorts and a half-T that looked at least one size too small, exposing a wide, sexy band of flesh from low enough over her pubic area that I found myself wondering if she had to shave before wearing them to about an inch, inch-and-a-half below the bottom curve of her breasts. I watched her walk away, loving the view, until she passed out of sight from the French doors.

"Rose?" Laurie said from behind me. She stood there looking hopeful, asked, "Could I join, too? I want to learn, and… I don't think Mom would mind."

"Tell you what, squirt," I said. "You join today, and ask Mom when she's free— and don't gripe if she says no more, or no more until later, and you can join."

"Thanks!" Laurie said, and hugged me in passing.

I looked around, saw Sunrise looking hopeful, laughed and said, "Jeans, not a good idea for this, Sunrise— get some sweats on."

She grinned and went in after Sara and Laurie. I looked around at Elaine.

"You mind just watching, Elaine?" I asked. "I want to avoid treading on Sensei Yashida's shoes."

"I don't mind," she said with a grin. "I think it's cool."

For the next hour and a half, I taught— and god, how I loved it! Teaching was awesome, and the way everyone listened to me, did their best to do as I asked… and did it! Sweet, sweet feeling. Everyone learned, and I felt ten feet tall.

Mom and Diane came out after a bit, watched for a while, called encouragement, then went in to start lunch.

We were still working when Giles, Buffy and the others got back. They came out, stood and watched silently (or almost silently— Kennedy said, "Oh, damn, I missed a class," making me feel even better) while I wrapped it up, told everyone to practice everything, and that I'd plan on doing this again the next day.

"Pending the approval of Giles and Buffy," I added, and bowed their way.

Both bowed back, and Giles said, "I've no objection at all— Buffy?"

"None," she said. "At least, not as long as Rose doesn't mind me watching."

"Cool, thanks!" I said.

"Now, come inside and help us with some things," Giles said. "Laurie, see if your mother can put lunch on hold for a few minutes, please?"

We went inside, and into the living room— where I saw boxes and suitcases piled at the foot of the stairs. I looked closer, recognized the a couple of the suitcases, and said, "What the— did you guys go get our stuff!?"

"Yes, we did," Buffy said.

"You didn't have to do that!" Mom said from behind me, sounding very pleased despite her protestations.

"It needed doing," Xander said. "We were all out to return rentals and buy vehicles anyway— and get Illinois driver's licenses for those who could. I have to see an ophthalmologist, get him to sign off on some papers before I can get licensed.

"So anyway, we all sort of thought you wouldn't want to go back there, not soon, so we just had Willow float Buffy up to Rose's balcony, and she came down and let us in. Then, one frenzy of packing later… here we are."

"We left the furniture, but brought the electronics," Buffy said. "Rose's computer and stereo, Laurie's computer and TV, the computer from your workroom, Kelly, and the TV and stereo from there. Oh, and all the books that weren't obviously not the property of one of you three."

"Fortunately, Xander insisted we get a rather large SUV as well as a couple of mini-vans," Giles said, "so there was room to do it all in one trip. Now, if you'll help us get it upstairs, you can set everything up this afternoon, after lunch."

"Um, Giles, can I call Brian, tell him where we are, have him come by?" I asked. "He's going to have to set up my computer and stereo."

"By all means," Giles said. "And I think you had all best call or email your various friends, tell them where they can find you. And… Kelly, I need to speak with you after lunch."

"Kimber!" Elaine squeaked. "She'll be freaked, and so will Brian!"

"You first," I said. "Kimber might be able to kick your ass— Brian has no hope of kicking mine."

We got things upstairs, got some friends notified of our safety and location, Brian promised to come over after lunch, we ate, Brian showed up, hooked me up, hooked Laurie and Mom's computers up, stayed for supper— Xander cooked ribs on this absolutely humongous grill out front— then caught a bus back for home.

Somewhere in the afternoon, a Federal Express truck came, and the driver unloaded a half a dozen good-sized boxes of clothes for Sh'rin, who then went off with Sunrise to learn about buttons, snaps, zippers, bra-clasps and a hundred other little details of modern clothes.

Buffy asked me, while we were sitting around out on the covered front patio after supper, for my impressions of my kung fu students, and I gave them to her. She listened, took me seriously— god, that made me feel good.

"And I agree with you about Brianne," Buffy said. "Her eyes may not recover, Wil says, but that's not going to cripple her, not with our Slayer senses."

"Yeah, it shouldn't," I said. "She's graceful— not like Sunrise, but then, she's not a trained dancer like your sister— and precise. Once she figures out how to target, she'll be deadly, I think.

"And I'm really glad Mom's okay with Laurie learning— she seems to really love it, having something to do with Sara and the rest of us."

"And she loves learning from you," Buffy said, squeezing my shoulder. "Don't forget that. And don't be surprised if I start working with Dawn, too— seeing you and Laurie… yeah. I want to help Dawn out like that."

"Good," I said. I heard a vehicle pulling into the driveway off of the street, looked up to see a small U-Haul rental truck coming in. Giles stood up, looking totally relaxed, so I figured this couldn't be a bad thing, even though Buffy looked puzzled.

"Giles?" Buffy said.

"I believe this would be our newest Watcher," Giles said. "I suppose I forgot to mention hiring him."

"Giles!" Buffy said. "You don't forget anything. What's going on?"

"Just watch, Buffy," Giles said smugly.

The truck stopped a ways off, maybe fifty feet from the garage, and the dimly-seen figure in the cab leaned across to open the passenger's side door, even though we couldn't see anyone in that side of the truck.

A big-puppy-small-dog— a Golden Retriever— came bounding around the side of the truck, tail wagging furiously.

"The hell…?" Chantelle said from off to my left. "That ain't— that _can't_ be!"

The puppy barked, a big, booming thing that still somehow conveyed that this wasn't a full grown dog, and Chantelle squealed, "Abe!"

The puppy charged right up to Chantelle, slid to a stop, and she bent to stroke him and scratch his ears. "Abe, did you follow me? No, way, not this fast, so—"

She stood up suddenly, ramrod straight, and stared at the truck— and the man who'd gotten out, stood leaning against the front of the truck.

"WHITEY!" she shouted— and I understood about what the others meant, saying I'd blurred the day before when Mom cried out. Chantelle ran to the truck so fast I half-expected a Chantelle-shaped cloud of dust to be standing where she'd started, flung herself at the man from far enough off that I think it was a good thing he was leaning against the truck, or she'd have knocked him over.

The guy caught her, swept her up in one of those hugs that you just know is the very best feeling in the world for those caught up in it, and she started kissing his cheeks repeatedly, laughing and crying and saying, "Whitey, it's really you!" over and over again.

"Sometimes I rather love this job," Giles said softly.

Chantelle tugged her "best friend in the whole world" over to meet us— and I saw Sunrise, Sh'rin, Vivian, Buffy, Sara and Laurie all sort of… _notice_ him. Heck, even _Mom_ sort of sat up straight and shifted around, and Diane, too. He wasn't really handsome— pleasant looking, sure— but he had an athlete's body, and this _presence_.

He was slender, but fit, and his shoulders were broad enough to avoid looking skinny. I could see the play of muscles in his arm as he reached for Giles's hand to shake it, noted the easy grace that virtually screamed "martial artist" as he walked over, one arm around Chantelle's shoulders protectively, affectionately, almost proprietarily, neatly dodging the bouncing, bounding, excited puppy who danced around them as they walked over. His face… strong jaw, visible cheekbones, a big, delighted smile (those never hurt looks, not when they're genuine, which his was) eyes deep set, light gray, intelligent. He had lines at the corners of eyes and mouth that made him look somewhere around thirty-five (turns out he was only thirty), and a nose that had obviously been broken at some point, but the bump in it didn't really detract from his appearance. His hair… startled. Light blond, neat, off of his ears and just above the collar of the light blue button-down shirt he wore— and there was a three or four inch long, inch-wide stripe of fresh-snow white running back into it on the left, and when he pushed it back later, I saw the tip of a scar that started at his hairline, ran back into it.

"Ever'body, this is my best friend on the whole damn planet, Whitelaw Millard Penobscot," Chantelle said, stopping at the edge of the group. He growled and tickled her when she said his full name, and she laughed in delight. "I have no idea what the high hell he's doin' here, but I ain't much carin'— my world just went from wonderful straight to perfect!

"Oh— and I'm the only one he lets call him Whitey, so I reckon y'all better get used to callin' him Whitelaw."

She then introduced all of us, making no mistakes or name-bobbles. He shook hands with everyone, even handled Brianne right, let her extend her hand, brushed his fingers against hers as he slid his hand forward, so she wouldn't be surprised.

When introduced to Elaine, Whitelaw said, "Thanks for keeping the secret, Elaine." He looked down at Chantelle, smiled, and said, "Perfect moment, seeing the look on her face."

"No problem," Elaine said. "The reunion was cute!"

Chantelle took him to Giles last, and they shook hands firmly before Whitelaw said, "Reporting for duty, sir. And… thanks. I needed this."

"You're quite welcome," Giles said. "How much unloading do you have to do? Shall we get it now, or wait?"

"Two suitcases, a duffel bag, my computer, my desk— it's an heirloom, I couldn't give it away— some power tools that can wait until tomorrow… and, um, eighteen boxes of books."

"Only eighteen?" Chantelle said, even as Giles's eyes lit up. "They must be big boxes!"

"Hush, you," Whitelaw said, squeezing her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Giles, I'm just… I can't throw away a book."

"Good heavens, man, never, ever say you're sorry about keeping a book," Giles said. "Have you shelves enough? If not, I think a 'welcome to the madhouse' gift of shelves might be appropriate."

"Better idea," Whitey said, sitting on a little loveseat thing when Giles indicated it, Chantelle dropping beside him and curling up like a content cat, her head on his shoulder. "I'll let you buy me the lumber to make my own, and do that— then if you like what I build, and want some yourself, I'll make you some."

"Excellent, and agreed," Giles said. "Now, about those things you made Chantelle— she couldn't show me, they couldn't bring them on the plane, so the girls mailed them here, and they haven't arrived yet, but Willow and Dawn were both impressed…."

They talked, Whitelaw refused an offer of food, having eaten on the road, and we Slayers, without being told, unloaded all but the power tools— serious stuff, table-tools, most of them— and put them in his room, ignoring his protests. After that had been done, we all stayed outside, sat and talked and listened.

After a while, Whitelaw said, "What sort of martial arts training are you giving the girls, Giles?"

"Rose started most of them on the tiger and leopard styles of kung fu this morning," Giles said. "May I ask what your style is?"

"Hwa Rang Do," Whitelaw said— and I got interested. Wide variety of attacks, insane numbers of weapons options… I wanted! "I have my third degree black sash."

"Excellent— we'll mix up the styles, once they have the basic proficiencies, then," Giles said.

"Makes sense," Whitelaw agreed. "So, you sparred any, Chantelle?"

"I… no, Whitey," Chantelle said. "I'm… not really s'posed to, not yet, Mr. Giles said I can work on techniques, but no sparring yet."

"Okay," Whitey said, his eyes narrowing a little. "Are you all right, honey?"

"Chantelle, if you'd like—" Giles started.

"No," Chantelle said. "Thank you, but no. I told all of you, and I barely knew most of you. I can tell Whitey. I owe him trustin' him like I did a bunch of near-strangers, and a hell of a lot more than that.

"Whitey… I done screwed up. Ain't no disaster, but it's gonna change things a lot I know. See, I… I shoulda tole you before, I know, but I got all caught up in this, an' sorta scared you'd be mad, an'… an' I really, really wish I'd done listened to you about Jerome Bidner not bein' worth my time, Whitey. 'Cause when I tole him what I'm about to tell you, he proved you was totally right about his lame ass.

"Whitey, I'm… I'm pregnant. 'Bout six weeks."

"Oh, sweetie," Whitey said softly, and hugged her. "I'm not mad, okay? Get that thought right the hell out of your head, I'm not the least bit mad.

"But I'll tell you right now, you try and name this child after me, and that _will_ make me mad! Nobody deserves that, ever."

Chantelle laughed, wiped tears from her eyes, hugged Whitelaw hard, crawled into his lap and curled up sideways.

"There's one thing I'd really like it if you'd do, Whitey," she said softly.

"Name it," he said. "If I can… I will."

"Would you be her godfather, Whitey?" Chantelle asked. "Her dad in pretty much ever' way but blood, I guess I'm askin'— girl needs a daddy, or she'll end up all wild and precocious like me."

"Yes, I will," Whitey said— and they just snuggled for a minute, and Giles and I— the only ones close right now— left them to it.

After a while, Chantelle shifted, slid out of Whitelaw's lap, grabbed a drink from the cooler by the door, came back.

"Chantelle, there's something I have to ask," I said as she sat down, wanting to tease her back to a lighter mood— not that she was upset, but she seemed awfully serious. "You had sex with exactly one guy, right?"

"Just the one," she said. "Asshole an' all, he was fun in bed."

"So how exactly does one guy qualify you for wild and precocious?" I asked.

Whitelaw snorted, looked her up and down, said, "Rose, have you seen the way she dresses? I've seen more skin covered by bikinis."

(Chantelle had changed back to the micro-shorts and half-T after the kung fu lessons were over.)

"Quit tryin' to cover for me, Whitey," Chantelle scolded. "You know I ain't ashamed of nothin'— if we don't count bad taste in boys— and the folks here are gonna figure it out eventually anyway, you know how I am about stuff like this."

"I wasn't covering for you," Whitey said. He poked her in the sides, pulled her close again when she squealed and tried to move away. "I was making my usual observation that you, young lady, exhibit far too much of your skin far too much of the time."

"Hush, you!" I said. "I happen to like looking at her!"

"There, y'see?" Chantelle said. "Girl's got good taste, Whitelaw Penobscot!"

"Not arguing," Whitelaw said. "However, she'd probably like looking at you just as much in jeans and a full length T-shirt."

"No, skin is good," I said— and Whitelaw gave me a playfully hard glare.

"Rose, I claim to be wild and precocious by right of having slept with one boy— and over a dozen girls," Chantelle said, while Whitey rolled his eyes— and Giles blushed purple.

"Oh, okay," I said, trying to look thoughtful. "I guess that might qualify you."

Chantelle laughed, said, "See, Whitey? Rose ain't freaked."

"All right, so I'm old," Whitey said. "So sue me."

"Hmm, might be worth it, if I could get Abraham out of the deal," Chantelle said.

We laughed, and the subject got changed— more for the sake of poor Giles than anything else.

We all went in after a while, and people broke up into little groups to talk, hang, goof off, whatever. I ended up with Mom, Laurie, Elaine, Sunrise and Sh'rin, listening to Sh'rin complain good-naturedly about modern clothes.

About eleven, we all crashed, and Mom said she'd sleep alone that night— but relented easily when Laurie asked if she could stay with her.

I went to bed with Elaine— her room, this time— and we made love (those poor pillows— I'm surprised we didn't bite holes in them, trying to smother our happy-noises). We both felt hungry after, went down to the kitchenette to make some popcorn, grab a drink. We got our popcorn and drinks, cleaned up the mess, walked out into the hall— and saw Chantelle, dressed in a to-her-knees T-shirt, slip into Whitey's room. She didn't see us.

We didn't discuss it, not until we were in Elaine's room, when she said, "Wow. You don't think they're… you know, lovers, do you?"

"No, I don't," I said. "Not lovers— just… love each other. Lots. No sex there, Elaine.

"But I'll tell you, the way Chantelle looks at him when she knows he isn't looking, thinks no one else is? If she doesn't make a pass at him the day she turns eighteen, I'll be amazed."

"So… why do you think she'll wait?" Elaine asked, looking thoughtful. "I don't think she cares about how old he is."

"She'll wait," I said, "because he _does_ care— so it matters to her."

"You think he'll accept it, if she does make a pass at him?" Elaine asked. "After she's eighteen, I mean?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "He's… I don't know him that well, but I think that right now? He loves her, knows how damned cute she is, how sexy she is— but isn't interested in her that way— or maybe just isn't admitting it to himself.

"But with three years to work on him, or two and a half or whatever? And her little girl very probably calling him daddy? Love, if that doesn't melt his reservations, I'm going to call him Iron Man— or he'll resist because he found someone else."

"I… kind of hope he doesn't," Elaine said. "Find someone else, I mean. I mean— well, I don't think age should matter that much. I wouldn't care if Giles started dating, say, Vivian— not like I think that's gonna happen. It's like… like being gay. You don't decide who you're going to love, it just happens— and love doesn't check IDs."

"Yeah," I said, hugging her. "I hope not, too. She's sweet, and she deserves a good guy. He's a good guy, and she loves him madly."

We finished our snack and went to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 29

_Interlude:_

Time passed, and things at Scooby Mansion settled into almost a routine, if a happy one.

Giles and Whitey started working on a regular training regimen for the girls, with slight modifications for Brianne Dayton and Chantelle Rostov— now officially, legally, (if not quite legitimately) Chantelle Johnson, legal ward to Giles.

(As a former police officer, Whitelaw Penobscot understood some illegal things— such as how to find people who made _serious_ false identities, the kind that stood up to even police scrutiny. He'd done that for Chantelle, to get the onus of her being wanted for beating up her mother out from over her head, and make it possible to get her inoculations, medical treatment, etcetera.)

The Monday after Whitey (and everyone was allowed to call him that, now— he'd relented under gentle pressure from Chantelle) arrived, Giles and Xander went to see a contractor— and the very next day, construction on the dorm-house and "guest house" that they wanted to add started. Both were finished by the third day of July, thanks to Giles being willing to toss a fortune in bonuses at the contractor.

Buffy and Kennedy helped with training the new Slayers— but Rose and Whitey led the two classes that taught essential martial arts. Willow, in the meantime, took under her wing Elaine's best friend, Kimber Duncan, teaching her more and more about the use of magic, that Kimber might be ready when the need was strong enough that true magic came when she called.

Twice in that month, Kimber stayed the night. Once she made love with both Rose and Elaine on the night she stayed, once just Elaine— because that night, Rose let herself be seduced by Chantelle, whose go-to-hell-seize-the-day-have-FUN-dammit attitude towards sex insured that both had a good time, and neither felt any need for a permanent relationship other than friendship.

Elaine resumed her karate classes, as well as studying with Buffy and Whitey, and Rose took up her kung fu classes again. Elaine took her late final exam for Biology, got an A by the skin of her teeth, performed her exam dance and got a perfect score, bringing that grade, at least, to an A.

Xander Harris lost weight, thanks to a careful diet, a regular workout in the expanded gymnasium in the basement— and by joining Rose's kung fu classes. He also saw an ophthalmologist, who signed the papers allowing him to get a driver's license, to his great relief.

Laurie and Sara soon became almost inseparable, which did them both massive amounts of good. Sara stuck right by Laurie's side all through Jerry Wentworth's funeral (Kelly, to minimize the necessity of having to appear the grieving widow, declined to have a visitation). A couple of days after Jerry's funeral, Sara left her baseball bat in her room when she came to breakfast, and Giles gave a silent cheer, as did most of the others. She was healing.

Diane Hodges left on the first of July, leaving a much-improved Kelly Riley (who had gone back to her maiden name, that being easier to explain than using the name of her first husband) with a hug, and the words, "You're as well as I can make you— and better than I ever would have expected. Hang in there, Kelly, and it'll all get better."

Brianne Dayton blossomed under the tutelage of Rose, Buffy… and Whitey, who had some interesting ideas about training her to sense things. He even blindfolded himself for a couple of days, in order to properly understand what the girl was working with— or at least, as he put it, "to _begin_ to understand."

Vivian Chaucer, shy and skittish still, did learn well… but she was quiet, distant by her own choice, seeming afraid to make overtures to the others. On the advice of Diane Hodges, Giles decided not to push her, just to let her go at her own pace for a while.

Sh'rin learned to dress as a modern girl, and her English improved to where she only sounded sometimes stilted, though if upset or excited, she would regress to the awkward sentences and more limited vocabulary she'd had when she first arrived— most often while riding in a vehicle. (She still hated riding in what she persisted in calling a "car-thing," though she did it without complaint.)

Buffy settled into her role as teacher and… "elder statesman" of a sort with an ease that surprised her, though no one else seemed surprised by it.

Whitey spent most of his spare time reading through a directed list of Giles's books on the supernatural, learning as much as he could as fast as he could— and if Chantelle wasn't doing something else, she'd sit with him, reading a book herself, usually one of Whitey's massive collection of science fiction, fantasy and horror novels. Seeing the two of them sitting on a couch or loveseat, each with a book in hand, her leaning comfortably against him, became a sight not merely regular, but actually _expected_.

Dawn— Sunrise, still and always to Elaine and Rose— Dawn became a learning machine. Mornings she worked out with Rose's kung fu group, after lunch she spent time with Sh'rin, beginning to learn the basics of herbalism, late afternoons she spent with Giles and Buffy on alternate days, learning Watcher lore from Giles, all varieties of fighting from Buffy. Evenings and Sundays she had to herself— but only because Giles and Buffy insisted that she relax some.

Giles stayed in regular contact with Andrew Wells and Robin Wood, as well, each of whom had been working on locating and gathering in what new Slayer's they could. Andrew had taken a group to Europe, and they were finding new Slayers at what Giles called "an impressive rate."

Robin Wood, on the other hand, was subbing for Giles until the additions to Scooby mansion were finished, and they had more room for more girls. Wood had been assigned the task of finding Slayers who were in some way in need of special attention— be it because they were physically handicapped like Brianne, emotionally handicapped like Vivian, or simply hurt, as Sara had been. He was scheduled to bring a group of eight new girls in on Friday, July the eleventh, each in need of either special training or care. After that, he would take his group of trained-and-ready Slayers and head for the Hellmouth in Cleveland to see about containing the monsters there.

In all the time between the night Rose got her red-and-blue sash and the day the contractors finished the two additions to Scooby Mansion (and passed an inspection by Xander), none of the residents or friends of residents saw so much as a single vampire.

On the fourth of July, that changed— loudly.

_Elaine:_

So we decided to have a big party on the Fourth of July. No surprise there, as everyone had been looking forward to the holiday but Giles, who pretended not to, but got caught up in our enthusiasm.

We made a day of it, taking off right after cleaning up after a Kelly-and-Rose cooked lunch, headed the longer distance to Miller Park in Bloomington, rather than going to the much closer Fairview Park in Normal. Kelly and Rose had always gone there even when Rose's father had been alive and they'd lived close to Fairview park, as had my parents and I, so the others agreed readily. As Xander put it, "Who cares where we go, so long as there's pretty lights and loud bangs?"

We played all day, goofed off, did nothing productive— and it felt good. I'd been busting my butt with the karate and other training, and, while that was always fun, this was a different kind of fun— looser, more pure fun than training was.

We played on the playground equipment. We played Frisbee. Xander produced a Nerf football, and we played keep-away. We all went to the zoo, which, while small, is pretty neat— several kinds of big cat, some lizards and snakes, a really nice aviary, a petting zoo, foxes, raccoons, bears, sea-lions, and— my personal favorite— otters! Watching otters play is more fun than playing myself, most times.

It was in the zoo that I first noticed the Big Guy— and he was big, massive, even, though still lithe and graceful as hell, despite his huge build and obvious muscles. Six-eight or so, two hundred and sixty pounds of solid muscle, with a broad, leonine face, high cheekbones, a "hero jaw," and a totally unlined face, all topped by thick, golden-blond hair. When I first saw him, he seemed to have no expression at all, nothing.

I first saw him in the aviary, where every single bird in the place got as far from him as they could. I nudged Rose (we'd gone in with Laurie and Sara, who'd promptly run off by themselves) and pointed him out.

"Look how the birds are all going away from him," I said. "Weird, huh?"

"Yeah, but not as weird as my Daddy's animal problem was," Rose said. "He had a pair, really. Horses and ponies blindly hated him, would literally try to kick him if he got anywhere near them. And the other? Worse. Skunks _loved_ him, would come walking right up to him— no problem, if he was alone, but if someone else was with him… hello tomato juice bath!"

I next noticed the Big Guy outside, as the foxes snarled at him and retreated into the very back of their cage— he didn't stick around. When we were standing at the otter pond, and they suddenly retreated, I looked around, and sure enough, there stood the Big Guy. He looked at the otters, sighed, turned away and went back inside.

The last time I noticed him in the zoo, he was smiling— a huge, sweet smile, delighted and almost childlike. He stood at the railing opposite the Amur leopard cage, and the cat— normally one to stay well away from the bars— was pacing back and forth in front of the bars, rubbing against them as though substituting them for rubbing against him. And it was _purring!_ Really loudly. While Rose and I stood and stared, the cat let out a low, somehow friendly growl— and he answered in kind, duplicating the sound _perfectly_.

"Wish I could growl like that," Rose said aloud— and the Big Guy looked over at her, still smiling, but looking surprised.

"You mean you can't?" he said in a big, bass voice. Soft, but still _big_.

"Not even close," Rose said. "Neat, though."

It got weirder when every cat that was inside did exactly the same as he moved to stand in front of their cages— came as close to the Big Guy as they could get, rubbed against the bars, purred, and gave him big-cat greetings that he answered, perfectly.

He seemed nice— a smile like his is hard for me to dislike— but weird enough that, when I saw him outside later, standing and watching some kids playing on the jungle gym (and back to wearing no expression at all), I asked Willow if there was anything magical about him. She looked that way, muttered something under her breath, then said, "Nope. Not a thing. Why?"

"Animals got funny around him," I said. "Most of them got as far from him as they could when he came around them in the zoo— but all the big cats practically tried to batter down the doors of their cages so they could get near him. It was just… weird."

"Must be a _serious_ cat person," Willow said, grinning. "No magic, Elaine."

I forgot about him until I saw him next.

We ate dinner— Xander cooked, and his grilled chicken was the best chicken I've had, except for Kelly's— and sat around listening to the "Original Scoobies" tell war stories from Sunnydale until it was time for the fireworks. We moved closer to the lake, got good seats on the ground, and waited for the half an hour that remained before they started the fireworks. That's when I saw the Big Guy again, sitting by himself not far off, a big camper's backpack beside him. I pretty much ignored him, until the fireworks started.

At the first big skyrocket's multi-colored flowering, I heard this big, bass laugh, childlike in its glee, despite the bass voice that delivered it, and I glanced over to see the Big Guy staring upwards raptly, the big, sweet, child's smile on his face again. I heard— just barely— when he said "Pretty!" in a soft, wondering voice— and I decided that he'd never seen fireworks before.

Weirder and weirder— but anyone who could sound that enchanted over fireworks wasn't anyone I could worry about, and never mind his other weirdness.

At the end of the forty minute display, when they lit the firework-American flag, we all stood, most of us with our hands over our hearts. Giles stood, but placed his hands behind his back, and Whitey stood and saluted, held it until the display went out— and, when I glanced over at the Big Guy, I failed to be surprised that he, too, stood at attention, holding a salute.

Then, thanks to me, Rose, Laurie and Kelly being familiar with the mass exodus from the park that always followed the fireworks, we stayed put for a while. Waiting fifteen minutes before we left made things a LOT less messy, even though we'd ended up parked about six blocks from the park. We'd found a space in a vacant lot whose owner was sitting in a lawn chair next to a sign that said, "Parking— $20 per vehicle, campers extra, motorcycles $10, all day." Though the lot stood between a pair of abandoned buildings— a big old clapboard house that seems barely capable of standing on one side, an old four-story office building on the other— the man assured them that someone would be around all day to keep an eye on things, so Giles had handed him sixty dollars for the three vehicles, and we'd gone to Miller Park from there.

We finally started out of the park at ten-thirty, not hurrying at all, just sort of wandering. Buffy and I were near the back of the group, and as we got to the edge of the park, I heard a familiar bass voice call, "Miss? Miss, excuse me, you dropped something."

Buffy and I stopped, turned to see the Big Guy headed our way in big, ground-eating strides, not running, not needing to, not with those long legs moving steadily. He had something small and rectangular in his hand, and as he approached he held it out to Buffy.

"My pocketbook," Buffy said, taking the small, wallet-like pocketbook. "I swear, I'm gonna go all redneck and put it on a chain.

"Thanks, you just saved me at least a lecture and a lot of hassle, replacing the IDs and credit cards."

"It was on the ground where you'd been sitting," the Big Guy said. "I had policed the area where I sat, returned from disposing of the trash, and saw it there. I recalled seeing your group head in this direction, and knew I could catch up with you."

"I'm glad you made the effort, thank you," Buffy said, offering her hand. "I'm Buffy Summers, and this is my friend, Elaine Marshall."

"I am Vincent Chandler," the Big Guy said. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers, Miss Marshall."

Vincent shook my hand after Buffy's, and I was surprised at how very gentle he was, treating my hand as though it was made of fine china. Again, he had on that delighted smile, and I couldn't help but smile in return.

"The pleasure's ours," Buffy said. "Is there something I can do in return?"

"I… could you direct me to an all night restaurant, or at least one that is open late?" he asked. "Not a tavern, please, I do not like taverns."

"Elaine, you know the town better than I do," Buffy said. "Anything close?"

"Nothing close, no," I said. "La Gondola will be open until one, but it's over on Main Street, most of a mile off."

"That is no problem," Vincent said. "That distance I can cover easily. "Main Street is east of here, correct?"

"Yes, just follow Wood, here, east until you hit the one-way street going north— that's Main," I said. "Turn north, it's a couple of blocks down, just before the bridge, on your left."

"Thank you," Vincent said. "You give excellent directions, Miss Marshall.

"I hope that you both have a pleasant evening."

"Wait a second," Buffy said. "Don't rush off. You brought my wallet back to me, saved me at least twenty bucks in replacing my ID, plus a lot of hassle. Will you let us give you a ride? Repay you?"

"Are you certain that your friends will not mind?" Vincent asked, sounding unsure.

"Positive," Buffy said. "We're going home that way anyway, Vincent, it's not even out of the way."

"I would be grateful, then," Vincent said. "But perhaps we should go— your friends are waiting."

He was right, the rest of the Scooby Gang was standing at the edge of Wood Avenue, waiting for us before they crossed.

Vincent followed us to the group, and I swear, no expression on his face and all, you could tell he was nervous, shy. Buffy practically had to yank him forward by the hand when she introduced him.

"I hope you have a good memory for names and faces," Buffy said as we went forward. "There's fifteen of us, all together."

"I have an excellent memory," Vincent said. "I will not forget."

"Everybody, this is Vincent Chandler, who just saved me a lot of butt-pain by finding and returning my pocketbook," Buffy said. "I offered him a ride to that spaghetti place on Main to repay him.

"Vincent, this is…."

She introduced him, and I could see that his smile as he met everyone, and everyone treated him kindly and with respect, was completely genuine. More weird— because he seemed surprised at simple decent treatment.

"I saw you salute when they lit off the flag," Whitey said. "Were you in the military or were you a police officer?"

"I was in the military," Vincent said, sounding cautious. "I only recently left it."

"I kind of thought that would be the case," Whitey said, grinning. "You still have the bearing, the walk— you march, Vincent. And you get in step with people who are closest to you— dead giveaway to a military man."

"I had not realized this," Vincent said. "Is it very common, this military bearing?"

"Fairly," Whitey said. "Though most people lose it after a year or so."

"I only left military service two weeks ago," Vincent said. "May I attempt to guess your own former profession?"

"Sure, go ahead," Whitey said, plainly enjoying himself.

"You were a police officer for several years," Vincent said. "Or perhaps a security officer."

"You're good," Whitey said. "I was a cop for almost five years, a security guard for almost five more. What gave it away?"

"First, you observe, and more closely than most people do," Vincent said. "Your eyes constantly survey, and jump to anything that appears as though it might be out of place. Second, your right hand does not swing as does your left— this is the habit of one who keeps that hand on a piece of equipment, such as a handgun, or a security officer's baton or flashlight."

"Wow," Whitey said. "I hadn't realized I did that— but you're right. And very observant yourself. Were you military police?"

"No, Whitelaw, I was not," Vincent said. "I was trained as a counterinsurgency and counterterrorist expert, though I never acted in the field as such."

Whitey whistled appreciation. "Well, even if you never used it, that training should get you a good job, when you're ready," he said. "In a post Nine-Eleven world, those skills are highly prized."

"That is good to know, thank you," Vincent said.

"What are you doing now, Vincent, if I may ask?" Giles asked as we turned the corner towards the vacant lot where we'd parked. Only a block left to go.

"I do any available physical labor," Vincent said. "I spent the last three days repairing a barb-wire fence for a farmer a few miles west-northwest of here. He paid me quite well, and also gave me meals and a place to sleep. Now I will move on, further east, I think."

"Sounds kind of lonely," Brianne said.

"It is sometimes so," Vincent said. "But I am unused to company or fraternizing, so it troubles me only rarely."

We reached the edge of the now-vacant lot across from the one where we'd parked (everyone with big empty spaces near a park makes money off of them on Independence Day, I think) before anyone could reply to that— and Vincent stopped, looked at the house on one side and the building on the other. All traces of a smile left his face, and he moved his head as though watching something.

"Vincent?" Buffy said. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," he said. "I am simply afraid that I will not be welcome among you in a moment— but I must report to you that there is something… anomalous occurring."

"Not welcome? Anomalous?" Buffy said. "I don't understand."

"People distrust that which is different," Vincent said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I must reveal my differences in order to warn you, to repay your kindness.

"There are approximately thirty… anomalous beings moving out of the two buildings flanking this property."

"Not everyone distrusts the different," Buffy said. "Later for that, though— anomalous how!"

"Each of the thirty-one beings approaching by stealth, as yet unaware that they are perceived," Vincent said in that same near-monotone that he'd been using since he saw whatever it was, "has a body temperature of slightly cooler than the air around them. Yet they are fully mobile. Anomalous."

"Vampires!" Buffy said. "Damn it!"


	30. Chapter 30

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 30

_Rose:_

Okay, this Vincent guy was kind of cool— and then a little spooky, if very helpful, when he pointed out the ambush waiting for us.

"Vampires!" Buffy said. "Damn it!"

"Kelly, Laurie, Chantelle, Willow," Giles said. "Move to the center of the group. Don't argue!"

"Dawn, Xander, Sh'rin, Giles and I are the inner ring," Whitey said. "Slayers— you're the outer ring.

"Vincent, you're big, but you're human and unfamiliar with the enemy— best get in the center."

"I am not human, though I thank you for saying so," Vincent said in a soft voice— and the saddest voice I've ever heard. "I will fight. It is what I am made to do."

"Dammit—" Whitey started.

"The Unborn!" Sh'rin said suddenly, sounding amazed. "Whitey, he speaks rightly— let him fight."

"Giles?" Whitey said.

"No time to worry about it," Giles said. "Vincent, catch!"

Giles tossed a stake to the big man, who caught it _without even looking_.

"These creatures are not normal humans," Giles said. "They're vampires. They will try to kill all of us. To destroy them, you must behead them, or pierce their hearts with wood."

"Orders received," Vincent said. "Objective understood."

Then he stuck the stake in his back pocket, even as the vampires realized they'd been caught out and started forward _en masse_. Vincent held his hands up before him, pumped the fingers partly closed twice, very quickly— and in the dim light, we all saw thick, curved, sharp _claws,_ like what you might see on a lion, pop out of the tips of his fingers and thumbs! Then he pulled his stake out again, held it like a knife fighter who intended to stab.

"Whoa!" Buffy said respectfully— even as Xander said, "Cool!"

Then the vampires charged, roaring— and it got wild.

One leaped right at me— I was in the front, left of Buffy, right of Elaine— and I powered a kick into his gut, sent him staggering back into two of his fellows, knocking them all down. Buffy staked the first one that came close to her almost contemptuously, and Elaine pulled this neat little feint-block-counter-with-stake, dusted her first target.

Then Vincent's first attacker reached him, swung— and drew his arm back after Vincent's hand flashed out at the incoming arm, pulled back in close, while the vampire stared at the five deep slashes in his forearm.

"What the hell are you?" the vampire asked, staring at Vincent.

"I am a soldier," Vincent said in that flat voice, and staked the thing in the heart, a perfect strike.

Then the full group was on us, and I didn't have time to look around much as I fought. Some got past us, inevitably, and I saw one go down under a vicious series of kicks from Whitey, who followed it to the ground and staked it. I was about to shout a warning about the one coming at him when a big wooden dart with steel vanes hit it, and Chantelle yelled, "Bloodsucking asshole!" as it dusted.

"_So_ glad I made those for her," Whitey muttered as he stood.

Then I spun as Vivian yelped in pain, saw that a vamp had just broken her arm, gotten behind her, and held her for the next in line. I started to move that way— and Vincent was there, snarling like a freaking _lion,_ grabbing the oncoming vamp and throwing him back like a rag doll. The vamp holding Viv tried to use her as a shield, but Vincent's left hand flashed past her face, and the vampire screamed, let go of her. Vincent drew his hand back, and I saw the gore dripping from his first two claw-tipped fingers, and the empty sockets where the vampire's eyes should have been.

Even as I muttered, "Three Stooges _a la_ George Romero, gross," Viv turned and staked the creature, turned back and shouted, "Vincent, DOWN!"

He hit the ground on the tips of his fingers and toes, and she staked the vampire that had been about to shove a sword through Vincent's chest. He bounced up, gave her that sweet, happy smile of his, said, "Thank you, Vivian. Stay close to me, you are wounded. We will work together."

Then I had another one on me, and I drove him back with a series of punches, then a wheel kick, staked him before he could recover— and heard Buffy call, "Rose, catch!"

I spun, caught the sword of the vampire who'd tried to kill Vincent as Buffy straightened from picking it up and tossed it to me— and I became Captain Cuisinart, waded into the group of four vamps trying to punch through the inner circle, and made dust— with an assist from Giles and Dawn, as Giles grabbed one as it retreated from me, flipped it to land at Dawn's feet, where she staked it as she dropped to one knee. The inner circle being clear, I turned back to the battle— just as Brianne, blind but _never_ handicapped, and one of my best students, did the unlikely to finish off the last one.

To know exactly where she was striking, she had to have hold of a vampire— or the vamp had to have hold of her. The last one grabbed her by her left wrist, stepped forward to try to grab her right hand to hold off her stake— and his right knee bumped her left leg.

Immediately, Brianne stepped high, put her left foot on his bent knee even as she gripped his wrist as tightly as he was holding hers, and stepped up, driving her right knee into the vampire's chin with a sound like someone smacking a sledge hammer into a wooden block as she went up. She held on to his wrist as he staggered around in a daze, stepped with him in a circle— and staked him perfectly.

"Excellent!" Sara said. "Bree, that was awesome!"

"All clear?" Buffy called.

"There are no more of these 'vampires' in range of my vision," Vincent answered.

"Giles, Vivian's hurt," Buffy said. "Everyone else okay?"

Everyone was fine, and Buffy turned to Vincent as Chantelle went to recover the two stake-darts and the wooden knife that she'd thrown.

"Vincent… thank you!" Buffy said, laying a hand on his arm. "You just saved a lot of people from being hurt a lot worse, maybe killed."

"You are not afraid," Vincent said, his voice sounding puzzled— but hopeful. "None of you are afraid of me."

"Nope," Buffy said. "Vincent, think about what you just saw us girls on the front line do— could normal girls do that?"

Vincent closed his eyes, and I could see his eyes moving beneath the lids. He opened them, said, "No. Normal girls and women could not do as you did." He hesitated, smiled a little, and said hopefully, "You are different, too?"

"We are," Buffy said. "And you know, I think I'd much rather you came home with us, let us feed you, than drop you off at La Gondola. And maybe you could stay the night? We made a spare room in the basement."

Vincent looked at Giles. "Sir, Buffy identified you as being in charge of this group. Does this course of action meet with your approval?"

"Absolutely," Giles said, not looking up from his examination of Vivian's broken arm. "You're quite welcome, Vincent, after fighting alongside us."

"Thank you," Vincent said— and he sounded like a lost little boy thanking a police officer for taking him home. "Thank you, sir."

Then he held his hands up, the fingers hyper-extended, and snapped his wrists back. His claws retreated back into his fingers, and he relaxed as we all started for the vehicles.

I managed to get into the same van as Vincent, but it wasn't easy. Everyone was curious, and wanted to ride with him. Me, Buffy, Elaine, Vivian (with Giles working on splinting her arm) Dawn (driving) and Sh'rin (in the very back, belted in, eyes closed and praying) rode in the one van. Giles, Vivian and Sh'rin rode in the back, Buffy and Elaine bracketed Vincent in the middle, and I rode shotgun, turned in my seat to watch as Buffy tried to make Vincent more comfortable, and Elaine tried to help. He seemed a little tense, a little wary, still— but he was visibly, if slowly, relaxing.

"Giles?" Dawn called as we drove. "Been a while since supper, and everyone's likely to be hungry. How about we order pizza now, so it gets there sooner after we get home?"

"Excellent idea," Giles said. "Rose, use Dawn's phone— that way they'll have the number in the system."

"Gotcha, Giles," I said. "Vincent? What do you like on your pizza?"

"I do not know," he said. "I have never had pizza.

"I am, however, familiar with the concept. I think I would like meat. Many varieties of meat."

"Never had pizza?" I said, stunned. "Boy, are you in for a treat!"

I took Dawn's cell phone (we all had cell phones, now— Giles thought it best), punched up the number for Micheleo's, a pizza place we'd accidentally discovered after a movie in downtown Normal, and which had actually supplanted Monical's as my favorite pizza place. We'd called them four times in the last four weeks, and that they knew us was evidenced by the way the phone was answered.

"Micheleo's, hi, Dawn," said a cheerful female voice. "The usual tonight?"

"Actually, I'm Dawn's friend Rose," I said. "She's driving, can't talk, so I get the honors.

"Yes, the usual order— plus a large, deep-dish, meat-feast pizza."

"Okay, just a second, here… all right, your total will be one-fifty-eight-seventeen," the girl said. "We're pretty busy tonight, with the holiday— better give us an hour."

"An hour for a dozen pizzas on the Fourth of July?" I said. "I think we can forgive the extra ten minutes. Thanks!"

I hung up, handed Dawn back her phone, and my phone rang. It was Mom, calling from Whitey's van, saying that they were going to stop somewhere and get more soda and some beer, so would be behind us a few minutes. I reminded her of a new "beverage superstore" that was just a little out of the way in Normal, hung up, relayed that to Giles.

Even with the delay in leaving, the traffic was just plain insane. Since there were three places that did fireworks in town, it didn't get any better. In fact, when we got into Normal (by crossing Division Street), it seemed to get worse. Then it got LOTS worse down by Fairview park— there'd been a traffic accident involving two cars and a pedestrian, and thanks to that, Fairview was just barely starting emptying. They had cops directing traffic, but still— messy. All in all, what should have been a twenty minute drive took forty-five, and Whitey's bunch beat us home by taking backstreets after getting the drinks.

We got the van and the SUV unloaded, got everything inside— and the pizzas arrived a couple of minutes early.

So we sat in the dining room, at the truly huge table there, with the pizzas on tray tables around it, and we ate. I killed my "cholesterol special"— deep-dish pizza, double cheese, Italian sausage, double pepperoni, double bacon— and felt… replete. I looked around to see a great many satisfied people— and Vincent, looking at a slice of the meat-feast pizza I'd ordered for him.

"I think that pizza is the best food ever," he said sorrowfully, "but I cannot eat the last piece. I am full."

"Amazing," Giles said in a dry, amused voice. "With Vincent's slice, we actually have just over half of a large left. I don't think that's ever happened before."

"I wasn't as hungry as usual," Vivian said. "I guess broken arms do that."

"And I'm still trying to keep off the pounds," Xander said.

"Vivian, should we not seek medical treatment for your arm?" Vincent said.

"Giles got the ends of the bone mated, and splinted it," Vivian said. "It'll be fine in day or so. I'll just have to skip sparring for a little bit."

"That is unusual," Vincent said. "I heal much faster than a human, and you are human— yet heal much faster than I do. It would take me ten days to heal such a break— I know this, as it did."

"And on that note," Whitey said, standing and beginning to grab up paper plates, napkins, and pizza boxes, "let's get this cleaned up and get started on Story Hour."

We got the table cleared, moved into the living room, and Buffy seated Vincent on the couch, her on one side of him, Vivian on the other, Viv actually holding Vincent's hand.

"Okay," Buffy said. "Vincent… you look sort of upset. Are you okay?"

"I am well," he said. "I just… I dislike killing. It is sad to have to kill. While I understand that the 'vampires' meant to kill you, I do not like taking life."

"Then you may relax, young man," Giles said. "Vincent, those creatures were not alive, not as we understand the term. You noted yourself that they were cooler than the air around them."

"Can you explain, sir?" Vincent asked.

"And we now observe the Watcher in his element," Buffy said, sitting back and waiting while Giles explained about demons, vampires and other monsters to Vincent— who quite plainly believed every word Giles said.

"Thank you, Giles," Vincent said. "I feel better now. I did not kill. I only sent demons back to their home dimension, and destroyed already dead human corpses.

"I am… relieved. I do not like to kill."

"Good," Vivian said, and squeezed his hand. "Killing sucks— but these things kill wantonly, for pleasure. Killing them… not a bad thing."

"Yes," Vincent said— and smiled at her. "Thank you, Vivian. Thank you, Giles."

(I noticed that the smile Giles got was different from the one Viv got— and Vivian looked a little glazed after Vincent smiled at her.)

About that time, Abe came down from upstairs, and, on seeing a new person, went over to him to say hello. He came over, sniffed Vincent's hand where it lay on his knee— then sat down with an incredibly expressive look on his big-puppy face, a look that plainly said, "Hold on, that's just not right!"

Abe chuffed, a little, interrogatory bark, and sniffed Vincent's hand again.

"Hello, dog," Vincent said, sounding cautious. "I will not hurt you."

Abe looked doubtful— but when Vincent extended his hand slowly, Abe sniffed it again, and his tail wagged a time or two. Vincent stroked Abe's head— and the wagging increased, moved up to Abe's usual happy, leg-bruising wag. When Vincent turned "stroke the head" into "scratch the ears," Abe gave up all thought of not liking the big guy, and moved to sit by him and lean against his leg.

"His name's Abraham," Chantelle said. "But mostly we just call him Abe."

"Hello, Abe," Vincent said. "You are very large for your breed. And well cared-for."

"He's not even full-grown yet," Whitey said. "I think he's maybe got a little Saint Bernard blood, way back in his line somewhere."

"It is possible," Vincent agreed. He looked up. "He is your dog, Whitelaw?"

"He's sort of everybody's dog, nowadays," Whitey said. "You can call me Whitey, Vincent. Chantelle's gotten me used to it."

"Thank you, Whitey," Vincent said. He looked around at everyone. "I think I should tell you what I am, now, should I not?"

"It would be a good idea, I think, yes," Giles said.

"I think you're both off by a word," Buffy said firmly. "Vincent, I think it's time you told us _who_ you are."

"Thank you," he said softly— and then he told us. _

_Elaine:_

I honestly don't know who was the most affected by Vincent's presence— Vivian, obviously feeling the full physical impact of that incredibly _male_ man, or Sh'rin, who seemed excited and delighted at his presence.

I wondered at Sh'rin's name for him— "the Unborn." But I didn't wonder for long.

"I am not truly Vincent Chandler," he began, standing and moving to stand at parade rest where we could all see him. "I have no name, so I took that one when I escaped the facility where I was created and trained.

"My only true name is Six. I was the sixth in a series of experiments, and the first to survive to physical maturity."

"I like Vincent," Vivian said firmly— much more firmly than she usually spoke. "You aren't a number. You're a person. You're Vincent."

"Am I?" he asked, his voice hollow, somehow empty. "I am not 'man born of woman,' as I was created in a laboratory, brought to physical maturity in a controlled amniotic simulation chamber."

"The Unborn," Sh'rin said softly, so softly that I don't think anyone else heard her. "One more piece of the family that will change the world."

Vincent didn't seem to hear her. He shook himself and continued.

"I was intended to be the first of a new breed of soldiers, soldiers who could operate alone, yet do more damage than a squad of Special Forces soldiers," he said. "I was… built, I suppose, though I have no mechanical parts as a part of my makeup. I… the genetic material of several species went into my creation. While I am approximately seventy percent human, I also contain DNA that is common to all of the species of the animal family _Felidae_ that are commonly referred to as 'big cats,' DNA from the gorilla subspecies known as the eastern lowland gorilla, and DNA from the bottlenose dolphin, though only a little of that, or so I was told, to counter excess body hair from the gorilla genes, and to toughen my hide— though as a side effect, my lungs are much more efficient than is common.

"Physically, I am significantly stronger than a human, approximately two-point-three times as strong as a human of my identical build, due to high-density muscle and bone structure. Under duress and the influence of adrenaline, my medically altered glandular system is capable of pushing that to five-point-eight times as strong as a human of my build.

"I am capable of extended periods of violent exercise, exceeding by a factor of six-point-two to one the most capable and conditioned of human athletes. I can move at a slow run for sixteen hours without need of stopping, while carrying a full soldier's kit. I can hold my breath while performing violent exercise for four minutes and twenty seconds. My skin is approximately twice as tough as a human who lives in desert conditions, and actually reduces friction during movement in water.

"My reflexes have been augmented through the use of feline DNA, as well as medical treatments _in vitro_. I do not believe that I am as quick as the Slayers around me— but I am far faster than an ordinary human.

"My vision is far more efficient at night than that of an ordinary human, and extends into the infrared, far into that spectrum with concentration and focus. I wear contacts to disguise the animalistic appearance of my irises and pupils. I cannot track by scent, but I can smell things no human can, identify a human by their scent if close enough. My hearing is approximately twice as sensitive as a human's, if I concentrate, and extends into both super- and subsonic ranges, though further into supersonic.

"An unexpected— but welcome, to those who designed me— side effect of the feline DNA inserted in my makeup was the claws. I first manifested them in hand-to-hand combat training, and it took a significant time to determine the motions to deliberately extend and retract them."

"Does it hurt?" I asked. "When you pop them out, I mean."

"No, that action causes me no pain," Vincent said. "Retracting them feels… very odd, though. Not painful, but… sharp. Like a firm tug on the hair."

"That's good," I said. "I'd hate to think that you hurt yourself to help us."

"Thank you, Elaine," he said gravely. Then he continued his story.

"I was decanted from the chamber where I grew already filled with all of the military knowledge not requiring physical training," he said. "I learned to walk in three days, to feed myself in five, to perform elementary calisthenics that require average agility and coordination in a week, to speak in two weeks.

"Then my training began in earnest. I spent four years and five months training in hand to hand combat, melee combat, the use of weapons from simple clubs to modern rocket launchers, military theory, strategy, tactics, assassination, sniper, counterinsurgency, counterterrorism… and on the day they declared me ready for the field, I proved myself a failure."

Vincent looked… he hadn't learned a lot of expressions yet, but his eyes were very expressive, and his voice. Now, his green-gold eyes were dark, and his voice low and sad.

"I refused to kill— and they called me failure. Coward. Loser. But I would not kill. The man… he had done nothing to me, to anyone— he was just a soldier who was lazy and sloppy. These things are not reasons to kill. I refused."

"Good for you!" Vivian said fiercely— and I knew right then that she was seriously gone over Vincent, head-over-heels in lust at least. Vivian didn't _do_ fierce.

"Yes," I said. "Vincent, you were right."

"Very right," Rose said from where she sat next to me, half reclined against me.

Everyone chimed in, and he stood up straight and seemed to grow… stronger. His shoulders, slumped in shame, came up, and so did his chin.

"I was relegated to use as a training aid, after that," Vincent said. "Used to train the others, to spar with them— I had the skills they wanted, just not the ferocity. They had been counting on my altered glandular system and the varied DNA in me to make me naturally aggressive. While I am aggressive, I am not a killer— so I became useless to them.

"They altered their training program, used subliminal messages in training films and hypnosis in sleep— and _in vitro_ on those still in their amniotic chambers— to repair this… this thing that they saw as a flaw.

"I spent a year as just a training aid, a sparring partner— and near the beginning of that year, I met Danny. Danny… he was my friend. He disobeyed the rules, the rules for those with housekeeping and other non-military jobs, and he spoke to me. He would talk— quietly, and only while his head was tilted so that the camera in my room could not see. But he talked. Eventually, I answered— and soon we were friends.

"Danny taught me much. Much of the world outside the facility, of the ways of ordinary people— and he showed me something that… that taught me to hope. He explained that it wasn't real, that it was a fantasy, like the tactical simulations I did, that the people weren't real— but I wanted them to be real! And now… perhaps they are real. Or something much like them, for… for you are different, and you are not afraid of my being different.

"I think… I hope… that I have found my 'Tunnels,' my 'World Below,' here. And in a place called Normal… is that irony?"

"I think it is, yes," Giles said. "But… 'Tunnels?' 'World Below?' I fear I don't understand the references."

"Vincent!" Whitey said, smacking himself in the forehead. "Vincent Chandler! Named for Catherine Chandler and for Vincent!"

Vincent's face lit up with the single most gorgeous smile I'd seen yet— delight in someone understanding something that was somehow central to his world.

"Yes!" he said. "Yes, Whitey! I named myself for them, for though they are not real, I loved them! They taught me much, them and the others!"

"Oh!" Vivian said. "I used to watch that! On cable, they ran it all the time! Beauty and the Beast, the TV show, not the cartoon. With that guy who's going to be in Hellboy! I _loved_ that show!"

I swear, I thought Vincent was going to pick up Vivian and hug her, maybe even kiss her, right then and there.

"Yes," Vincent said, laughing. "Danny thought it would be good for me to see it, said I could learn from it, learn that different is not wrong, or bad. Every night he worked, he would clean my rooms while it was on, put me in the lounge with the TV in it, set it on the right channel for me.

"I came to love that show, those people, that world. I loved Danny, he was my first friend, my only friend, then.

"Then they somehow found out what he'd been doing, and they murdered him."

Just like that, Vincent was right back to sounding like a hurt, lost little boy— and I wanted to cry for him.

Vivian _did_ let out a single, shocked sob. Vincent looked stricken at her sob, said hurriedly, "Perhaps I should not tell this tale, or not now, I do not wish—"

"No," Vivian said. "No, you tell it. You get it out of your system, Vincent, make it stop hurting so much."

"I do not wish to upset anyone," Vincent said. "I would—"

"Vivian is correct, Vincent," Giles said. "You should treat emotional pain as any other wound, and heal it as you may. Like a physical wound, emotional wounds can become infected and dangerous. To prevent that, one should lance them— and that means talking about them, with wounds such as this."

"Please, Vincent," Buffy said. "Finish the story."

"All right," he said slowly. "If that is how you all wish."

"Anyone who doesn't wish to hear may leave the room," Giles said. "No one is obligated to stay."

Kelly looked at Laurie sideways, as though contemplating telling her to go to bed, and at Sara the same way— then shook her head just a little and let it go.

"Go on, Vincent," Vivian said, sounding more calm— and he did.

"Danny… I was forced to watch when they killed him," Vincent said, again sounding lost and forlorn. "The General had Thirteen do it. Thirteen was the most ferocious of my… my descendants, I suppose."

"Later versions," Whitey said. "Just as accurate, and doesn't connect you to them so strongly."

"Yes, later versions, thank you," Vincent said. "Thirteen… his conditioning was exactly what they wanted. Unemotional, except when committing violence. Violence… made him happy. He was a sadist of the worst kind, capable of feeling pleasure only from causing pain or destruction on other living beings.

"He took nine hours to kill Danny— and they made me watch. That is when I decided to leave, to escape. It took some time for everything to come together, for all that I wanted and needed to have all fall on the same night, at the right times. Then… I escaped. I fled the facility the only way possible, as they were careful never to so much as let us see the piloting of a helicopter, and no wheeled vehicle could ever make the descent.

"I escaped via the river. The rapids were very nearly fatal, worse than the waterfall preceding them, even. But I escaped. They… I do not know that they seek me, but I suspect so. I timed my escape carefully— they very likely think I somehow stowed away aboard the weekly supply helicopter. I do not think I could have… but I hope they will make that assumption, as it will lead them in the wrong direction."

Vincent stopped talking, but made no move to sit down. He stood with his head bowed for a moment, then raised it, looked first at Giles, then at Buffy, recognizing them as in charge. He tried to look at Vivian, but didn't seem to be able to— he was just as gone over her as she was over him, I think.

"There is one other thing I must tell you," he said slowly. "It is not right to conceal it. If you ask me to go after I tell you, I will. I will understand."

"I doubt very seriously that any of us will want you to leave, Vincent," Giles said. "But tell us what you must."

"I did something… wrong," Vincent said. He looked at the ground, like a little boy caught sneaking a piece of candy before dinner. "Something bad. But… I had to! I had to, I loved Danny, and I couldn't stand knowing that _he_ could hurt someone else the way he hurt Danny, I couldn't live with that!"

"You killed Thirteen," Whitey said in a calm, steady voice. "Good job, Vincent."

Vincent whirled to look at Whitey, seeming to not believe what he had heard.

"You heard me," Whitey said. "Good job. Well done.

"You did the right thing, Vincent, and I've no doubt of that in my mind."

"But… but killing is wrong!" Vincent said. "It is wrong until you have no choice, and then it— it— it is sad, sorrowful! It is sad that there was no other way, even when you must!"

"Yes, it is wrong until you have no choice," Buffy said. "Absolutely. But Vincent… you didn't have a choice."

"I didn't have to kill him, I could have just snuck past him, not killed him, not even fought him!" Vincent said, seeming more scared of being absolved of guilt than of being asked to leave.

"No," Vivian said— and Vincent calmed down visibly, instantly. Her voice was soft, steady and gentle. "Vincent, Thirteen was like the vampires. He loved to hurt, to kill, lived to hurt and kill. That's evil, Vincent. And ending an evil like that? Sad, yes, sad that the people who created him made him that way, sad that he was trapped in that… that pattern.

"But killing him wasn't wrong, Vincent— just horribly sad."

Tears fell from Vincent's eyes, and he jerked as they did, shook his head violently to clear his eyes, wiped at his face saw the wetness on his fingers and stared.

"I… am I crying?" he asked. "I have never… not even when Danny died, I could not— is this crying?"

"Yes, you're crying," Vivian said, standing up. "That tells me that you were completely full of _crap_ earlier tonight, Vincent. Right before the fight, you told Whitey you weren't human, Vincent Chandler— and you were wrong. Only a human would cry over having to kill."

Vincent sobbed— and Viv stepped forward, put her good arm around his neck, stood on tiptoe to press her cheek against his.

"It's okay," Vivian said softly, even as Rose and I headed for the back doors onto the patio, with most everyone following us. Only Buffy stayed behind, and that was just long enough to whisper something in Viv's ear, pat Vincent's shoulder, and call Abe to come with her.


	31. Chapter 31

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 31 _Elaine:_

"Vivian's going to bring Vincent out when he's calmed down," Buffy said. "In the meantime… I hate to be all big sister on some who aren't actually my sisters, but, Laurie, Sara? I think you should go to bed."

"Yes, they should," Kelly agreed. "Girls, hug who you're going to, and head for bed. I'm sure Vincent will be here in the morning."

"I am tired, as well," Sh'rin said. "I think I will go, too."

Very shortly, it was down to me, Rose, Kelly, Giles, Whitey, Chantelle, Xander and Buffy. Once the last of the others had gone in, Whitey dug something out of his hip pocket, looked at it and sighed heavily.

"Chantelle, you can lecture me later if you want," he said in a no-nonsense voice, "but right now… I have never, ever needed a cigarette so badly in my life."

He opened this funny-looking flat aluminum pack that hissed when he pulled the little opening string, pulled out a cigarette and a wooden match.

"I ain't gonna yell, Whitey," Chantelle said. "Mostly cause right now, if it weren't for the baby, I'd be askin' for a damned drink. God! How can people be so damned… so damned awful!"

"I really don't know," Whitey said, and lit a cigarette, scratching the match on the stone wall of the house to do so, then very deliberately moving downwind of everyone. "Giles… I don't suppose you have ideas as to how to get something like that shut down?"

"Not off the top of my head, no," Gils said. "Mostly because after the Initiative, I can believe quite easily that such a thing is fully sanctioned by the government."

"Press?" Kelly suggested. "Expose them?"

"I'm afraid that could blow up in our faces," Giles said. "After all, Kelly, at least some members of the government do know about the existence of the Slayer. Should they find out that we were present at the destruction of Sunnydale, I'm sure that they would find a way to make it our fault. I'm afraid that would greatly hinder our ability to help girls who need it."

"An' that," Chantelle said, "would be a cryin' shame. An' I ain't even thinkin' of me. Look at what y'all have done for Rose and Elaine."

"And me," Kelly added quietly.

"An' Kelly," Chantelle said. "An' Laurie, while we're talkin' about not even Slayers an' you still take care of 'em. Then Sara, she's so much better than when I got here it's about scary. An' Brianne— that girl loves you all for what you taught her.

"An' then Viv— and Vincent. You helpin' her put her in a position to help him more'n y'all have already done, an' you've helped him bunches in a couple damned hours.

"So we give the assholes a pass— 'til they try to come for Vincent, if they're dumb enough, or until we run across 'em while doin' our thing. Then… we stomp on 'em like roaches."

"I'm glad you finally included yourself in that list, Chantelle," Giles said. "As you've had a hand in all that you mentioned."

"I never even met Rose an' her family when they were in trouble!" Chantelle said, blushing. "So I can't take no credit."

"Like hell," Kelly said. "Honey, the fourth night you were here, you did me a world of good— just stopping to talk to me, and giving me a hug when you left. And don't tell me you didn't know I needed to talk— I'm a good mom, and that means I can spot a lie at a thousand yards."

"And god knows you've spent enough time hanging with us, being cheerful and fun, and that helps us forget some of the ugly," I said.

"What she said," Rose said.

"And hey, I personally am greatly cheered up by how incredibly often you end up making Giles blush in a day," Xander said, shooting her a sly grin.

"What he said," Buffy said, grinning at me and Rose.

"And without Whitey to share the work, I might well have gone completely insane by now," Giles said.

"And lest we forget," Whitey said, his voice soft and serous, "allow me to remind you, Chantelle— I'm here, working, making a way-beyond-decent wage, fighting the fight you know I _have_ to fight, both by fighting and by teaching others to fight… because of you caring enough to brag on me to Giles."

Chantelle didn't even answer, just blushed, moved in and hugged Whitey, made no move to pull away at all.

"You give good hug, young lady," Whitey said.

"So do you," Chantelle said against his chest.

"While we are on the subject of you two hugging," Giles said in a voice that just _screamed_ of smugness and amusement, "I sincerely hope that neither of you think I'm unaware of the fact that Chantelle has spent at least five nights out of every seven in your room, Whitey. As I am aware that the relationship you share is not sexual, I see no impropriety, and I _do_ wish you'd stop trying to be sneaky about it."

Chantelle and Whitey just stared at him, mouths open.

"Ooooh-kay," Xander said cautiously. "On seeing the incredible efficiency with which Mr. Giles plays 'paybacks,' I would like to retract my earlier comments regarding my personal amusement when he blushes."

"What he said!" Buffy said, half-hiding behind Xander.

"My goodness," Kelly said in an admiring voice. "Rupert, are you sure that you've never had children? Because _that,_ sir, was worthy of Rose's father!"

"No joke," Rose mumbled, looking at Giles with exaggerated nervousness. "You're not allowed to read _my_ mind, Giles— not unless you marry Mom."

Giles turned purple, Kelly beet red— and Xander said, "Oh, you're in for it, Rose! Now he's going to _have_ to get you back!"

We were all still laughing when the French doors opened and Viv came out leading Vincent by the hand.

"Thank you," Vincent said. "All of you. For your understanding, your kindness, your— your _welcome_."

"You are most welcome," Giles said. "Vincent… you say that you've been doing physical labor to support yourself as you wander. In your labors, have you done any grounds keeping? Mowing yards, trimming trees, basic exterior maintenance?"

"I have done such, yes," Vincent said. "I even did much of such work at the facility where I was created, after I was determined unfit for further military training." He shrugged expressively, and added, "Even those who exist only to fight need only so much time sparring in a day— so they filled the rest of my days with work such as you describe."

"Excellent," Giles said. "Then I should like to offer you a job, Vincent— a long-term position, if you will accept it.

"No one here wants to do the yard work, all being daunted by the very size of the yard, you see. It occurs to me that… Vincent, you may very well be able to help Whitey and I train the Slayers, and the others who would fight. And by training them, you could ensure their living longer. So I thought… one day a week, you do the grounds keeping, and the rest of the time, you help us train the girls.

"We can discuss salary later, but it would of course include room and board— and between Kelly, Whitey, Rose, Xander and— to my surprise— Sh'rin, we have some of the best cooks on the planet living here.

"Will you accept the position?"

"I— you— yes!" Vincent stammered, tears spilling from his eyes again— the first happy tears of his life, so pretty much wonderful to see. "Giles, _thank you!_ I will accept! I will— I will do the best I can, I swear it!"

"Welcome to the family, Vincent," Whitey said, grinning— and looking surprised (but not upset) when Vincent turned and hugged him. Whitey chuckled, hugged back, and said, "Just remember, being in this family means you're going to be teased a lot. May take some getting used to."

"I will learn!" Vincent said, turning to hug Chantelle, who hugged him while looking a little overwhelmed— that whole super-male thing, I guess.

He hugged us all except Giles, and I think Buffy told him that he shouldn't while he hugged her, told him that Giles was more reserved by nature. (And let me add here; Vincent Chandler has one thing going for him that proves beyond all doubt that he is very, very human— he gives _excellent_ hugs!) Giles, Vincent only shook hands with, though it turned into a both-hands shake on both parts.

"On that note," Giles said. "I believe that it's time to go to bed for most of us, if not all. Xander, would you show Vincent where he'll be sleeping?"

"Come on, Vincent," Xander said. "Your room's in the basement. Which means at least you won't have people traipsing up and down the halls all night. While you don't have a bathroom off of your room, the nearest one to your room is the least used one in the place, so it all kind of balances."

"A moment, please," Vincent said quietly, and Xander stopped at the doors, looked back to see Vincent hugging Vivian very gently, but very, very warmly. Her good arm went around his neck, and she again pressed her cheek to his.

They held the hug for a long moment before she said, "Good night, Vincent. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes," he said, sounding delighted. "Yes, Vivian. Good night."

Xander led Vincent off, and Vivian said a rather distracted goodnight to the others, then wandered inside.

"Well, given the man's love of the Beauty and the Beast show, I'd have to say that his first crush is oddly appropriate," Whitey said, putting an arm around Chantelle's shoulders and heading for the French doors that led inside.

"Wait, huh?" Buffy said. "I saw a few episodes, and I don't get you."

"Vivian's name," Whitey said. "Her full name. Vivian _Catherine_ Chaucer."

He went inside with Chantelle while the rest of us were still laughing.

Rose and I said our goodnights, went in with Kelly, and went upstairs to bed. Despite the hour, we made love repeatedly before going to sleep.

_Interlude:_

Giles told Buffy goodnight, and went in himself. Buffy, however, stayed where she was, sitting on a glider swing on the patio and relaxing in the warm night air.

A couple of minutes after she sat down, the French doors opened again, and a moment later, Xander sat down beside her.

"Got him settled in," Xander said. "He was just _amazed_ at how big the bed was— he had a cot back at this facility, I guess. Poor guy. Well, sort of poor."

"Only sort of poor?" Buffy asked. "I wouldn't wish his life on anyone, Xander. Well, except maybe Principal Snyder, if the Mayor hadn't eaten him."

"You have a point, Buff, but… well, everything's an improvement for him, now," Xander said. "The way he sees those improvements, the way he feels them? Yeah, that's gotta be… incredible.

"Then you add in that every non-gay female in the house is practically drooling over him, and we've backed down from 'poor sad son of a bitch' to 'poor guy— but things are looking seriously up for him.' It's a rough life, but he's gonna have it better than good from here on out, in his eyes."

"Sometimes I forget how much you see," Buffy said softly. Then, a little louder, "And I was _not_ drooling over him, Xander Harris!"

"Okay, maybe not actually drooling… but come on, Buffy, the guy definitely is handsome." Xander gave her a lopsided grin, said, "I even got a little thrill out of hugging him."

"Goon," Buffy said, laughing and squeezing Xander's hand, not letting go of it. "Okay, yes, vicarious thrill out of hugging Vincent, I'll give you that. But no way would I date him, or even chase him."

"Oh yeah?" Xander said. "Why not?"

"Three reasons," Buffy said. "First, I'm not going to go poaching, and Vivian's half in love with him now— if not more. Second, he'd never notice me while Vivian's in the world. And third… I'm done with the super guys. It just… I don't want to go there again."

"Not sure what you mean, Buffy," Xander said.

"Oh, come on," Buffy said. She raised the hand that wasn't holding one of Xander's, used it to tick off her past romances. "Angel; vampire, sure, has a soul— but vampire. Superhuman strength, speed, toughness. Riley; super-soldier guy. And when he lost the super part, it was his problems with that that made things bad for us as much as it was mine. Spike; see Angel, above.

"No, I'm done with the super-guys. I want someone… normal. I feel… I don't know if I could let go, let myself totally trust someone with wacky powers anymore."

"Well, there's always Whitey," Xander said. "He's definitely got… something. Again, all you non-lesbian females have noticed that something."

"True, he's got something," Buffy said. "But it's not my sort of something.

"Besides— him and Chantelle are both waiting on her to grow up. I don't think he knows he's waiting for her, but she's definitely in love with him, and she knows it."

"And here I thought I was the only one aware of that," Xander said. "Buffy… on that subject, I ended up walking around with Sh'rin some today, and we passed Whitey and Chantelle. I asked Sh'rin if the Guardians had names for them like they did for the rest of us, and she said they did. Apparently, Chantelle is 'the Genuine,' by virtue of flatly refusing to hide what she is."

"I like it!" Buffy said, laughing. "Very accurate, I think."

"Yeah," Xander said. "They've been really accurate with most everyone, and that's why what the Guardians call Whitey worries me, Buff. That and that when she was talking about it, Sh'rin lost her better English, went back to day-one broken sentences and hunting for words."

"Oh, shit," Buffy said. "Better tell me, Xander— and tell Giles tomorrow."

"I'll tell you," Xander said. "And I'll tell you the rest of what she said, and then we can decide about telling Giles, okay?"

"Fair," Buffy agreed. "What do the Guardians call him, Xander?"

"They call Whitey 'the Wounded,' Buffy," Xander said. "And when I asked for an explanation, Sh'rin lost her words, said something like, 'Tell I cannot, for to ask of his wounds only makes them fresh. Make hurt _new_. He cannot forget. Cannot forgive self. He is honorable, so honorable is _stupid,_ and will not drop the weight.'

"I asked if we could help, and she said, 'Other names there are for Whitey-who-will-be, Xander, but not ours to decide which he will wear. All rests on Whitey, on Chantelle— and Giles taking Chantelle's answer to Whitey's hurt. Giles… the Father. The father in him may not let her help when wounds open. Not his fault, never that— but may happen one way, may the other.' "

"Joy," Buffy said. "I suck at riddles.

"Did you ask what his other names could be?"

"She wouldn't tell me," Xander said. "Flatly refused. Said telling me couldn't help, might make things worse. She just said that one was bad, the other was… 'to be hoped for.' Then she changed the subject, and wouldn't be steered back to Whitey."

"Okay, we think about this, you and me," Buffy said. "And… maybe Wil? She's good with riddles and stuff."

"I was thinking Dawn, actually," Xander said. "Buffy, she's Sh'rin's best buddy, her student, and they spend a lot of time together. Since she's learning to be a Guardian… well, maybe she can think like one."

"Again, good point," Buffy said. "Okay, we'll corral her tomorrow, put this to her— but I don't think we should ask her to bug Sh'rin about it."

"Me, either," Xander said.

"Okay, that's decided," Buffy said. "So anyway— no Vincent, no Whitey, not for me."

"Leaves pretty slim pickings," Xander said. "Looks like you're going to have to go back to college just to meet some guys, Buff."

"Not in the plan," Buffy said. "College… been there, done that. Oh, I'll go back someday— but right now, I really want to just… train girls. Make Slayers out of them. Which reminds me, tomorrow, I have to speechify. Xander, I'm so proud of those girls I could about pop."

"Yeah, they rocked." Xander sighed, said, "Okay, I'm exhausted. Time for bed."

"What, you're just going to rush off and not help me with my guy problem?" Buffy said.

"Not a lot of help, here, Buff," Xander said. "It's not like I've got George Clooney or Johnny Depp in a pocket somewhere. So I guess there's not a lot I can d—"

"You could kiss me," Buffy said in a very small, slightly frightened voice. "I mean… if you want to."

Xander had been starting to stand, and he fell back to the glider swing as though all his muscles had turned to overcooked spaghetti.

"I could who?" Xander said. "I mean— I could— huh?"

"You could kiss me," Buffy said, some of her confidence coming back at the shocked-but-hopeful tone in his voice. "I'd like that."

Despite seven years of repressed desire, seven years of love, Xander didn't rush it— or maybe because of those things. He didn't ask any more questions, just turned to face her, cupped her cheek in one hand, and kissed her, slowly, gently, lingeringly. Buffy gave back as good as she got, and when they broke, she said, "Thank you, Xander. Could you do that again? Pretty much just like that? That was… perfect."

"Yes," he said, apparently to both her questions and her comment.

He did it again, and it was, again, perfect for both of them. Afterwards, he finally managed a coherent sentence.

"Buffy… I love you," Xander said. "Have for a long time, but I guess you know that."

"I know," Buffy said. "I've loved you for just as long, but… it didn't used to be the same way you love me. Now… now it is. I love you, Xander Harris."

She kissed him this time, a little more urgently, but not overly so.

"God," Xander whispered when they parted. "I'm… Buffy, what changed? So I can keep it up, not… not do something stupid and lose whatever made this happen."

"I changed," Buffy said. "I saw… I saw you. The you that's been right beside me for seven years, and I finally saw… you. The night that Sh'rin came to us, when she called you 'the Heart'— that's when I saw. I saw… Xander, I saw how right she was, and I saw that…. Xander, what you are? It's what's been missing all this time. It's what I need. You. A man who gives his heart to everyone who needs it, who doesn't shy away from… from the bad things, the scary things. Who understands that you have to sometimes say no to things you want. And who can save the _whole world_ just by giving a friend his heart to put in the place where her broken heart used to be.

"You're what I want, Xander— and I'm glad I didn't wait too long."

"You didn't," Xander said. "You couldn't. You can't.

"I'm here. I'm yours. Forever, if that's how you want it."

"Good," Buffy said, and kissed him again. When they parted, she said in a light, joking tone of voice, "But I'm warning you right now, Xander Harris, I'm not going to let you mother me in the field. I'm still a Slayer, still the Prime— and I'm going to do the job."

"I know, Buffy," Xander said. "And I'll deal. It's gonna be a lot easier, now that you aren't alone out there. So… I'll deal."

"Good," Buffy said. She stood, pulled him to his feet. "Come on, walk me to my room and kiss me good night. Then tomorrow night, buster, you get to take me on a date. A real date. Nice restaurant, a movie, popcorn— I expect the full treatment."

"Want me to rent a tux?" Xander asked. "I could do that."

"Nah, a little more casual than that," Buffy said, leading the way towards the stairs. "But I am gonna wear a dress, just to warn you."

"Consider me _happily_ warned," Xander said.

They went up the stairs, and at Buffy's door, he kissed her goodnight, held her for a long moment, and watched her go inside. Then he turned, went to his own room, and slept peacefully through the night.


	32. Chapter 32

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 32

_Rose:_

So I got a double surprise in the morning, but both were pretty damned cool.

When Elaine and I went down to breakfast (after making love a couple more times— you'd have thought we'd have been a little more in control after the night before, when we stayed up way too late making love, but we were all over each other as soon as we both woke up), things were pretty normal— Buffy sitting and talking to Whitey, who was cooking that morning, Giles and Mom sharing the newspaper, Willow and Kennedy sitting and half-snuggling while waiting for their share of Whitey's extremely tasty waffles (I'd never have thought of putting some apple jelly _in_ waffles, but oh, it's good!), Laurie and Sara arguing over whether Harry Potter should hook up with Cho Chang or Ginny Weasley (I was with Sara on that one— Ginny all the way), Brianne listening to something on her iPod, Sunrise and Sh'rin sitting and talking together, Chantelle next to them with a book in her hands. No sign of Vivian or Vincent, but Vivian might be sleeping late— Buffy says healing something serious like a broken bone makes you really tired for a bit. I didn't see Xander when we came in , but he came in as we sat down —

— and Buffy went straight over to him and kissed him. Romantic-kissed, I mean, not a peck or a cheek kiss.

Everyone stopped what they were doing for a second— then Willow pumped one fist in the air and yelled, "YES!"

Buffy and Xander both started laughing, which made them break their kiss, and both looked at Willow. Buffy said, "So I take it this meets with best-friend-approval, Wil?"

"Duh!" Willow said. "My two best friends in love? Heck yes, I approve!"

All three of them looked at Giles, who had already gone back to his part of the paper. He glanced up, saw them looking, raised an eyebrow.

"Well I certainly don't know why you're all looking at me," he said mildly. "It's not as though I object. In fact, I've been expecting this for some time, now. I certainly have no objection to Buffy and Xander being happy, quite the opposite."

"Thanks, Giles," Buffy said. "Means a lot."

"You're quite welcome," Giles said. Then he started to raise his paper again, stopped, and looked over his glasses at Xander. "Oh, before I forget— allow me to express the obligatory paternal warning.

"Xander, if you hurt her, I shall be forced to beat you with a very large and very heavy book. Buffy, if you hurt him, I will tell everyone in the household about your Home Economics final exam."

Both of them looked comically frightened, and Sunrise laughed.

" 'The Father,' yeah. The Guardians got that one right." Sunrise laughed again when Giles mock-glared at her and said, "Oh, quit it, you know it's true."

Vivian and Vincent appeared then, both coming from the basement, both smiling, and looked around.

"Did we miss something?" Viv asked, and we all laughed.

"Buffy and Xander are involved, and Giles made appropriately dad-like threats at both of them about hurting each other," Willow said.

"Oh, okay," Vivian said. "Whitey, that smells wonderful."

Vincent seemed a little ill at ease at first, but relaxed when everyone said cheerful good mornings to him. Giles said that he'd hired Vincent to help with training and handle the yard work, so Vincent would be staying, and we all cheered some, and he got hugged a lot— and he relaxed.

It was after breakfast when we got our second cool surprise. While we were all still in the kitchen, Buffy said, "Hey, before everyone goes off to train or whatever, there's something I need to say."

Everyone turned to look at her, and Buffy smiled.

"Last night, things got a little busy when we got home, and I didn't get to say this then— should have, but Vincent's story was pretty riveting, and I let myself get sidetracked," Buffy said. "So I'll say it now.

"Last night at that parking lot…? Every single one of you made me proud. Even those of you who didn't fight did the right thing, the smart thing. Willow, I saw you watching, tracking, looking for a place that needed a magic boost. Kelly, Laurie… watching Rose and Elaine fight, that had to be hard, harder than maybe I can know— but you stayed put, you watched, and that took guts. Chantelle… smart. You did your share, kiddo, and never endangered your baby.

"Inner ring? Guys, I saw enough to know that you were in-freaking-credible. I saw you all do what had to be done, I saw you do it alone, I saw you work as teams— I saw people who made me proud.

"Outer ring… Vincent, you adapted to an unfamiliar enemy, and you did your share of damage. You protected the one of us who got hurt, but you didn't smother her— and you listened when she told you to do things, accepted her experience as a reason to accept her orders. You're welcome at any fight I'm in.

"The rest of you… I don't know how I could be more proud of you than I am. You took what you've learned, here and elsewhere, and you used it to do the job exactly as it ought to be done.

"You did it right. You girls are _Slayers_— and any of you can watch my back at any time. Or maybe I can watch yours.

"You just plain _rock!"_

We sat silently for a moment, happy-stunned— then Giles stood and said, "I had intended to tell you much the same— and for the same reasons. However, at this point, I believe that the only appropriate thing I can say is… how does that go again? Ah, yes.

" 'What she said,' is the proper phrasing, I believe."

Buffy laughed, and we all cheered ourselves while she went to Giles and hugged him.

Then we went outside, and I started morning kung fu classes.

After class, Xander stopped me and said, "Hey, Rose? Advice time?"

"Huh?" I said. "Well, okay— if I can."

"I don't know the town yet," Xander said. "Could you, ah, supply me the name of a nice restaurant? One that either doesn't require reservations or is likely to have something available tonight?"

"Ah, okay," I said. "Got you covered. Italian okay?"

"Italian is very okay," Xander said.

"Beningo's, over in Bloomington," I said, and spelled it for him. "Odds are good they'll have a few reservation slots open tonight, they're not super fancy— but definitely nice. And their spaghetti sauce is to _die_ for."

"Thanks, Rose," Xander said. "I owe you one."

"So? I'll remember that next time it's my turn to do the dishes," I said. "Come back and see me if they're booked up, I'll think of something else."

"Betcha," Xander said. "Okay, shower time. Later, Rose."

Turned out to be a killer day all around. Mom, Giles and Whitey decided to take all of us "youngsters" who wanted to go out to a movie in the evening. Rose and I opted to stay home, Sunrise stayed, and Sh'rin opted to avoid an unnecessary ride in a "car thing." Willow and Kennedy stayed, too— but my bet was that we wouldn't see them much.

Of course, Buffy and Xander went their own way. Buffy looked utterly killer in a medium blue dress that was short enough to be intriguing without being short enough to look anything less than dignified, and Xander… the last month's worth of self-discipline and workouts had done wonders for him. Nice silk shirt, a blue only a little darker than Buffy's dress, gray slacks… with the muscle tone in his arms and his broad shoulders, I could see a girl melting over him. (In fact, I saw Buffy get sort of melty when she saw him, and I liked that.)

So we six stayed home, and Sh'rin cooked— scary, how good a cook she is, when you stop to consider that she hasn't learned to use a stove or an oven yet. Steaks from the grill (she does appreciate the gas grill), slow-baked potatoes that she wrapped in green onion greens before wrapping them in leaves— she didn't like foil much, hadn't learned to gauge how it held heat yet— roasted corn on the cob, and this salad full of stuff I'd never seen in a salad before (wild nuts, tiny wild onions and carrots, sliced radishes, some chopped-up cabbage, some unfamiliar and wonderfully sweet green leafy things— yum!).

After dinner, Elaine and I did the dishes, Willow and Kennedy disappeared upstairs, Sh'rin went off to work on practicing her reading (Sunrise had taught her in record time. Already, Sh'rin read at about third grade level, and she was working her way through— slowly, but with delight— the first of Laurie's Harry Potter books), and Sunrise looked at me and Elaine and said, "Um, guys, I imagine you want some alone-time… but could we talk some first?"

"Of course," Elaine said, hearing the undercurrent of need in Sunrise's voice just as clearly as I did. "Alone time… we haven't been short lately. We can talk as long as you like, so relax."

Sunrise nodded in relief, followed us up to my room on the third floor, sat at the foot of the bed while we sat at the head— and dropped a bomb on us.

_Dawn:_

I like to think that I'm the only one in Scooby Mansion who really knew the way Elaine and Rose were in their relationship, the only one they were that relaxed around that they didn't mind me knowing that everyone's assumptions about them were totally wrong. And I know I'm the only one that they were so relaxed around that they'd get pretty damned sexy with each other in front of me.

See, everyone in the house— even Kelly, I'm pretty sure— assumed that what we all saw everywhere else was how it was when Rose and Elaine were alone and feeling sexy; that Rose was in charge. Easy to assume. Out of their bed, that's pretty much how it was. Rose didn't give orders or anything, but she took the lead, always. She led the way in a fight, in a class, when they walked together it was usually Rose in front. That was just… Rose. She led, and didn't think about it. Buffy said that Rose was going to be a team leader, once things got settled down and everyone was ready to start working supernatural threats, and it was the right decision.

But when it came to sex… Elaine was pretty much in charge. She led, Rose followed. She asked, Rose did— never complaining, never arguing, just doing what Elaine wanted, and doing it _happily_.

And I _know_ that me and Chantelle were the only ones in the house who knew about their little "arrangement," their agreement to _not_ be perfectly faithful, but always to come back to each other. I knew that they'd both made love with Kimber twice, and Elaine and Kimber had made love by themselves the night that Rose went and stayed with Chantelle, and those two made love. And you know, I never thought it was weird or wrong— because it very obviously worked. The Chosen Couple were so in love that it was like watching Willow and Tara at their closest.

I hadn't seen Elaine and Rose make love or anything— but as we three got closer, they did get pretty relaxed about being sexy with each other around me. And I admit, it was sometimes really… um, exciting to watch. They'd kiss, always nice to watch when the people are in love, never mind gender, and they eventually— well, pretty quickly, I guess— got to where they'd do some petting in front of me, and not mind if I watched— even the couple of times I found myself staring, they didn't mind.

The most… _intense_ that I'd seen them get, I guess, was the night before the Fourth of July. We'd all been in Elaine's room, listening to music, and they started making out— nothing new there. When Elaine grabbed Rose's butt, nothing new. Put her hands in Rose's shorts, rubbed bare skin? Nothing new. But when Elaine guided Rose's mouth to her breast, and Rose started sucking and licking Elaine's nipple through her satin blouse…? _That_ was new. And yeah, _really_ exciting.

Then Elaine moved one of the hands she had on Rose's bottom around to the front, and I… got so excited that I felt pretty sure I was very much bi. I couldn't see anything, really, except Elaine's hand moving some, and Rose's hips rocking. But when Rose came, made this happy sort of quiet yell— without ever taking her mouth from Elaine's satin-covered nipple— it made me insanely horny. They stopped after Rose came, and if they hadn't, I'd probably have started masturbating— right there in front of them.

Okay, not any doubt left. I'm bisexual.

So when I needed to talk about something that had happened, something sexy, and with a girl… who else would I go to? Not even Willow was as comfortable with talking to me about things like this as they were. When pretty much all the grownups took off, and most of the others with them, the night of the day it happened? Yeah, I know a sign when I see one. (Hey, my sister's the Prime Slayer, was _the_ Slayer for years— I know all about signs, okay?)

So I asked if we could talk after supper, and they both obviously got that I was a little wigged, and they both gave me an unconditional yes.

Is it any wonder that I love them both?

So we all sat on Elaine's bed, them at the head, cuddling and leaned against the headboard, me at the foot, cross-legged and facing them.

"Something happened today, that… that I need to talk about," I said slowly, pushing my hair back from my face. "Not a bad something, as far from bad as it gets, maybe, but… I need to talk. And maybe to ask some… stuff."

"So talk," Elaine said, smiling. "We're listening, Sunrise."

I tried to decide where to start, and went with the big thing first— I could go back to cover details after, and by saying the big thing first, I kept myself from chickening out.

"This morning after kung fu class, Sh'rin and I did our usual walk-talk-teach-learn," I said. "And… well, right before we came back, we had a really intense talk. We talked because… because she kissed me, and it… I liked it. When she did it a second time, it went places. It was intense, and… and I love her. I'm in love with her. And she's in love with me."

"Congratulations, Sunrise," Elaine said. "You guys… well, you're a good couple."

"Very good," Rose said, and smiled at me, honestly happy for me. "Neat. Um, let me guess… want advice on talking to Buffy? And maybe Giles?"

"No, not that," I said. Then I backtracked and said, "Well, okay, yes, that. Both of those. Too, I mean. That's not… not what's on my mind first."

"So what is on your mind?" Elaine asked.

"Well… um, we talked a lot, Sh'rin and I did, and… and she's no virgin," I said. I knew it was okay to tell them that, Sh'rin had been puzzled by my being nervous about admitting the reverse. "And we sort of… I said I wasn't sure if I could… damn. I'm not saying this right!"

"Hey, no, calm down," Elaine said— and suddenly she and Rose were beside me, on either side of me, holding me. Slayer-quick, they were there. "It's okay— you can say anything to us, Sunrise, and not worry about us laughing or freaking, okay?"

"Okay," I said, leaning against Elaine some, pulling Rose with me. "I'll try to… just say this. No promises— but I'll try."

"That's all anyone can ask," Rose said.

"Okay," I said. "Sh'rin… she asked if I was ready to… to make love, and I had to say no. She asked what she could do to help, and she… she asked if I thought it might be a good idea to not make love for a while. I don't want that— god, if I had any guts, any _sense,_ I'd be in her room right now, making love to her, and I know it. But I can't, and it's stupid!"

"Stop that, it's not stupid— and neither are you," Elaine said, and her voice was… well, I did stop. She used that kind of voice. "Sunrise, just tell us what's wrong, okay? Please?"

"I've no idea what it's _like,"_ I said in a low voice. "I mean— I want her. I know intellectually what to do, and I know in a dozen ways what I want her to do to me, but I don't know… I don't know exactly what it is I'm wanting, even. I just… I don't want to go into this without some clear idea of what I'm going into, you know?"

"I'd never done anything with a girl before Elaine," Rose said. "Oh, I'd kissed a couple of girls, touched one girl's breast— but nothing more. And Elaine… to keep me from doubting that I could make her happy, Elaine had me to things to her first. Experience isn't necessary, Sunrise— just love and desire."

"But you'd at least seen two girls doing stuff, right?" I asked— and Rose blushed.

"Well, if we count porn stuff, yes," she admitted.

"I haven't even had that," I said. "I know, I'm weird, but there it is.

"So I was wondering… is there a good porn website for girls making love with girls that either of you know about? Someplace where I could just… see?"

They looked at each other past me, and I swear to you, I felt their communication, felt something go back and forth between each of them really fast, much faster than talking.

"Okay," Elaine said. She and Rose moved away from holding me, moved back to the head of the bed again. I couldn't figure out why— I knew they weren't mad at me, or upset with me, so I didn't know why they were moving.

Sometimes, I'm _really_ slow.

They sat, Elaine with her back square against the headboard, and Rose back between Elaine's legs, leaning back against Elaine.

"Sunrise… counteroffer," Elaine said. "Porn… so much of it is so awful."

Her hand slid from Rose's shoulder to her thigh— then her hands started roaming over Rose's body, shifting clothing, revealing skin, deliberately showing me parts of Rose I'd never seen bared before— and I stared, utterly unable to look away.

Rose moaned in delight, arched her back, cooperated completely with everything Elaine did— but made no effort to move so I couldn't see.

"We'd much rather you saw two people making love than just having sex, Sunrise," Elaine said. Her hands were moving steadily, all over Rose and I didn't even _try_ to look away. "And we'd be perfectly happy with having you watch _us_. From as close as you want, the closer the better, really. No holding back, no shame— we don't have anything to be ashamed of, and we'd be as far from ashamed as we can get to have _you_ watching us.

"We're going to make love, Sunrise— will you stay and watch us? Please?"

I tore my gaze away from Rose's body and Elaine's hands moving over it, looked up at first Rose's eyes— excited, filled with love, trusting— then Elaine's, looking exactly the same.

"What if…." My voice came out a croak. I licked my lips, swallowed, tried again. "What if I can't… just watch? What if you two— I love you both, you know that, and you're so damned sexy that it hurts, my nipples have never, ever been this hard, and they _hurt_— what if watching you two makes me so crazy that I want to join you?"

"Will that hurt Sh'rin?" Elaine asked. "Would it, if she knew?"

"No," I said firmly. I faltered a little more with the rest of my reply, but I knew it wouldn't hurt Sh'rin if… if I ended up making love with Rose and Elaine. "She… her people don't— didn't, I guess— do monogamy, or not very often. Mostly group marriages, group relationships. She… she asked me if I'd need her to be monogamous, or if we might look for a man to be a part of out lives, or another woman, or both, or more than one of whichever…."

"And what did you say?" Elaine asked.

"I said… I said no, I didn't need monogamy," I admitted, blushing, because I'd been thinking specifically of Rose and Elaine when I said to Sh'rin what I told them next. "I said I didn't even really _want_ monogamy.

"Which is when she told me that… that her feelings for me are so strong that if I did want monogamy, she'd try it. Then she… you know, she's taught me that primitive people aren't stupid, weren't ever stupid, and what she said next, it pretty much proved it.

"She said that, among her people when someone new to physical love was… so deeply in love that they couldn't even think straight, sometimes they couldn't get past the _in_ love to the _making_ love. When that happens, the one who had problems would go and make love to someone else. Learn that it was okay, that it was wonderful, and want to share that with the one they loved, and always be able to, after that.

"Then she asked me if I thought that making love to Chantelle would help… or one of you."

"Well, knowing all of that," Elaine said, almost _purred,_ "then to answer your original question… if watching us makes you so crazy that you want to join us… then you'd damned well _better,_ because we've both wanted you since the moment we laid eyes on you— and since then, we've learned to love you dearly, which only makes the _wanting_ you stronger!"

"I don't know if that will happen," I said, though I was pretty sure that it would, "but I will promise that if I find myself wanting to… I will."

After that… things got wonderful.

I did watch, and I did watch from… well, _really_ close, sometimes. Neither of them ever seemed self-conscious about it at all, which kept _me_ from feeling that way.

They both even did things that made feel included— not sexual things, or at least not blatantly sexual. Held my hand, stroked my hair, my shoulder… things that made me feel welcome, without feeling pressured.

Near the end of things, each of them kissed me, and that was _very_ sexual— but each of them gave me a chance to dodge, or decline, moved slowly enough that I could've turned my head, or just said that I wasn't ready for that.

I didn't— because I was ready for it, I did want it.

I saw the things I needed to see to understand what it was I wanted, and when that was over, I made a decision that wasn't difficult at all: I sat up, looked at the two of them, and said, "I love you," I said. "Both of you."

"And we love you," they said in stereo.

I took the last step— they'd made it plain that they wanted me, that I was welcome. I knew, utterly and certainly, that they wanted me as much as I wanted them.

And I knew that, after loving them, I could go and love Sh'rin— and I wanted that even more than I wanted Rose and Elaine, but knew that I'd have to do the one before I could do the other. I even knew, understood completely (though I could never put that understanding in words) that Sh'rin would be happy that I had made love with my two dearest friends in the world.

"Would you two please," I said slowly, "tear my clothes off and make love to me? Pretty much _right now!"_

They seemed really happy to oblige me.

It was as wonderful as I thought it would be.


	33. Chapter 33

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 33 _Elaine:_

Making love with Sunrise was the most amazing thing… because she fit with us. Fit with us better than Kimber, even, and I love Kimber, have for years.

But… Sunrise was… mutable. I mean— Kimber, like me, wanted to be in charge. It's why would wouldn't work as a long-term couple. With Rose with us, things were better between Kimber and I, even.

But Sunrise… when I took, she _gave_. And when Rose gave, Sunrise _took_.

She fit us, fit with us, as perfectly as we could have asked for.

We three made love for a long time, then we showered together, cuddly-sexy, getting clean and relaxed. After we were clean, we dressed, and went down to the kitchenette a door or two down, saw that it was only ten as we made ourselves a snack of popcorn and fruit.

"I can't ever thank you guys enough," Sunrise said as we sat down at the little table in there to eat. "I love you both— and you were just exactly what I needed to make me confident enough to go to Sh'rin and make love with her— which I think I may do tonight, if Buffy comes home early enough."

"Want to talk to Buffy first?" I asked.

"Need to," Sunrise said. "Somewhere in the time we were making love, I figured out what to say… and how to say it. So I don't need more help on that— but Rose, it was you who showed me what to say, how to say it."

"Good," Rose said, smiling at her. "But when exactly did I do that?"

"The day after we met," Sunrise said. "When you told us that you needed to tell your mom about the whole Slayer gig? I'm going to plagiarize like a desperate college student, Rose, because what you said about needing to be honest with your mom to keep things right between you… that's how it is with me and Buffy."

"Plagiarize away," Rose said. "I don't mind. Glad I could help, even if I didn't know I was helping when I helped."

"That," I said slowly, "almost made sense. But only almost.

"Sunrise… what about Giles?"

"Him after Buffy," Sunrise said. "He's… harder. Can't be so… direct, not with him. But don't worry, I'll figure it out."

"Yeah, you will," I said. "You're smart, Sunrise. Figured that out a while back."

We ate in a companionable silence, then Sunrise stood, pulled me to me feet, kissed the hell out of me, held me for a moment, then turned to Rose, did the same for her.

"Guys… Sh'rin was pretty plain while we were talking, and… this doesn't have to be the only time we make love, not if you don't want it to be," Sunrise said.

"We don't," I said. "So… whenever you want us, we'll be here."

"You're a part of us," Rose said. "And we wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good," Sunrise said— then grinned wickedly and added, "Maybe we could all four get together, next time."

"God, yes!" I said, even as Rose made a little 'I want' whimper. "Sh'rin, she's gorgeous, she's sweet— and she makes you happy, Sunrise, so we love her."

"I'll put the idea to her, then," Sunrise said. "After I've had a couple of days to get my fill of her myself."

Sunrise kissed us each again, still hard and eager, then went downstairs to wait for Buffy to come home. Rose and I went back to my room, to bed, and— eventually— to sleep.

_Interlude:_

Dawn grabbed a book to read and sat on the couch in the living room to wait for Buffy. She decided that if Buffy and Xander seemed too wrapped up in each other, she'd wait until tomorrow to talk to Buffy— but she hoped that they weren't all that intensely into being together when they came home.

She _could_ wait to love Sh'rin— but she didn't _want_ to.

Whitey and most of the others came back about eleven, missing only Giles and Kelly. Over the girls and Vincent all babbling about the coolness of X-Men 2, Dawn managed to ask Whitey where Giles and Kelly were.

"Kelly asked Giles about learning to become a Watcher," Whitey said. "They went off to talk about it, and to get a drink while they talk." He grinned, said, "Can't you just see her as a Watcher? 'All right, you've got a vampire nest on the south side that needs cleaned out. Everyone be careful, and make sure you take your umbrellas— it may rain, and I don't want you catching cold!' She'll be great."

Dawn laughed, agreed with him, and went back to her book as the group dispersed slowly.

About eleven-thirty, Buffy and Xander came in, holding hands, both chuckling, and all smiles.

"I still say you could take Agent Smith," Xander was saying. "No matter how many of him there might be, you'd kick his ass, Buffy.

"Still want to re-watch the first one?"

"Yeah, I do," Buffy said. She saw Dawn on the couch, book in her hand but closed. "Hey, Dawnie. What's up?"

"Not much," Dawn said, deciding to wait to talk to Buffy. "Just about to crash, actually."

"Huh," Xander said. "For a girl who's about to crash, you look an awful lot like a girl who'd like to talk."

"Xander, you go up and make sure we can use the study on the second floor," Buffy said. "And make popcorn— I still crave popcorn. I'll be up in a few."

"It's okay," Dawn said, not moving to sit. "Seriously, it's not urgent, I can wait."

"Re-watching the Matrix isn't that urgent, either," Xander said. "It's a DVD, Dawn— we can stop the movie and pick it up later if we want."

"I am not going to spoil your first date," Dawn said firmly.

"Good, then you'll sit down and talk to Buffy," Xander said. "Because she'll be distracted and not date-like if she's wondering what's on your mind."

"Win," Buffy said. She kissed him, said, "I'll be up in a few. Thanks, Xander."

"Yes," Dawn said. "Xander… thank you. Lots."

"All part of the service," Xander said. "Didn't anyone tell you? Making Summers women feel better, that's my job."

"You do it well," Dawn said. She looked at Buffy, looked around the living room as Xander went upstairs. "Buffy, could we go to the study or something? Giles and Kelly are still out— she asked him about becoming a Watcher, so they went to talk about it— and I don't want to get interrupted."

"Better idea," Buffy said. "My room? I want to get out of this dress."

They went to Buffy's room, and Dawn sat on the couch against the wall while Buffy got out of the dress, put on shorts and a T-shirt. Once she'd changed— a matter of seconds— Buffy came over and sat beside Dawn.

"Okay, what's up?" Buffy asked, lacing her fingers through Dawn's on the back of the couch.

"Buffy, something really good happened today," Dawn said. "I… need to tell you about it. Because… because I want more good to happen, and I don't want to not tell you about it."

"I think I followed that," Buffy said. "And I think I'm flattered."

"Maybe you should be," Dawn said. "Or maybe you should just be… well, proud.

"Buffy, since the end of the battle with the First and the Turok-han, you've been… well, you've been the sister I remember from before the whole Slayer thing. You've been there for me, more than you were able to be before— and while I get that you weren't able to back then, that you had other responsibilities, I also get that you make an _effort_ to be there for me, now.

"Like Rose got her mom back, I got my sister back— and like Rose, I'm going to try to keep that."

Buffy interrupted by pulling Dawn close and hugging her tightly.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Dawn Summers," Buffy said against Dawn's hair.

"I learned from some of the best," Dawn said. "Mom, Giles, Xander… you."

Buffy kissed Dawn's cheek, sat back and said, "Okay. Thank you, Dawn.

"Now… what's up?"

"I need to be honest with you," Dawn said. "And that means… I think I'm going to shock you some, Buffy. So… I hope we can get past that.

"Buffy, something happened today, and I… I realized that I'm in love. Have been for a while, but I never quite realized it until today. And… it's not one-way."

Buffy looked at Dawn, sighed, and asked, "Is it Rose and Elaine?"

Dawn's mouth fell open, and Buffy actually chuckled, covered her mouth, and said, "Sorry, sorry! I shouldn't be laughing, I'm sorry, but— Dawn if I looked at you that way, you'd laugh!"

Dawn shook herself, closed her mouth, and said, "Okay, before I say anything else, it isn't Rose and Elaine… exactly.

"But— how the heck did you get the idea it might be?"

"Willow talked to me," Buffy said. "She's been expecting you and them to become a triangle for a while now, and she thought… she thought it might be easier for you and me if I wasn't surprised by it."

"Wow," Dawn said. "Okay, yeah— the Wise, it fits her. Because… Buffy, I'm in love with Sh'rin. She kissed me this morning, kind of… out of the blue— the first time. The second time… I asked her to kiss me. And… Buffy, I'm bisexual."

"Okay," Buffy said. "I sort of figured that."

"You— no way!"

"Way." Buffy grinned, rapped lightly on Dawn's forehead. "Think about it, Watcher Junior. Four men in the house. I know you love Giles, but I also know you love him like I do— as our dad. Xander… you got over him a ways back. Whitey? You know as well as I do that he's waiting for Chantelle to grow up. And Vincent…? Sure, you glazed over when he hugged you— so did I, so did every not-lesbian woman in the house, even Kelly.

"But I saw you looking at him and Vivian, and I know you would never actually make a pass at him— and since he's so obviously totally crushing on Viv, I doubt he'd notice if you did try.

"So… you had to be in love with a girl— but you did still get all overwhelmed by Vincent, so you still like guys. This leaves you being bisexual."

"Wow," Dawn said, and looked at Buffy with new respect. "You're smarter than me— let's trade, you can give me the Slayer power and I'll let you be the Watcher."

"No way," Buffy said. "I like being super-girl, I do.

"Now… you said you're in love with Sh'rin— okay. I can see that. But you also said, when I asked if it was Rose and Elaine, that it wasn't them 'exactly.' Care to explain?"

"I… okay," Dawn said. She sighed, said, "Buffy… have you talked to Sh'rin much? About what her life was like before, I mean?"

"No, we mostly talk about life now," Buffy said. "She's full of questions, and she's trying really hard to adapt, so mostly we talk about that."

"Okay, so… this is probably gonna be a little hard for you to accept." Dawn took a deep breath, then said, "Buffy, her people didn't have much in the way of monogamous relationships. Mostly it was group marriages, group relationships. All sorts of combinations, usually three or four people involved, but one marriage in her tribe was eight people, five women, three guys.

"Sh'rin told me that if I needed her to be monogamous, she would, or even if I just wanted it— more reason to love her.

"But… I told her I don't need it. That I don't even want it."

Buffy stared. Dawn blushed.

Buffy stared some more.

"Oh, boy," Buffy said. "Well, Dawn… when you drop a bomb on me, you don't do it halfway.

"So… you and Sh'rin and Rose and Elaine? Is that what you're saying?"

"It… not that, not… not yet," Dawn said. She blushed darkly, but met Buffy's eyes. "But… maybe someday. Maybe soon, even.

"Buffy… I was afraid of the idea of making love to Sh'rin. Not because I don't want her, not at all… but because I've never seen anything more intimate than two girl's kissing. Ever. Not even porn. I… couldn't get past that need to _see_. To understand at least a little better than I did. Sh'rin understood, and… she knew what I was going to do, and she wasn't hurt by it, not even upset by it."

"You went and watched Rose and Elaine make love?" Buffy asked, her voice mostly even, but a little incredulity creeping in.

"Watched, yes," Dawn said. "Then… then I joined them."

"Oh, boy," Buffy said. "You… and them? All three?"

"Yes," Dawn said— and still didn't look away. "They were sweet to me, good to me. Buffy, I needed to tell you, because… I won't lie. Not even by not telling you.

"So… unless you tell me that I can't, that you'll be horribly angry or upset with me if I do it… I'm going to go and stay the night with Sh'rin tonight. I hope… I hope we make love."

"Okay, you're… Dawn, thank you," Buffy said, squeezing Dawn's hand. "Thank you for… for trusting me. For telling me this, and for… being willing to accept it if I say no— which I'm not about to do."

"Really not?" Dawn asked.

"Really not," Buffy said. "Dawn, you're seventeen. You're not the little girl I used to not trust because she was totally dippy.

"You're a woman. You're responsible. You've proved that two dozen times _at least_ in the last year.

"So I'm going to let you be responsible for your own happiness, your own love-life. You've earned that.

"Besides, Dawn… after Angel, and the way I went after him on my birthday when I was a little younger than you? I'd be a horrible hypocrite if I did say no."

Dawn hugged Buffy tightly, and they held on for a couple of minutes. When they broke, Buffy gave Dawn a wicked look.

"Two things, though, Dawn," Buffy said. "I'm not telling Giles about this, but he needs to know. I'll come with you when you tell him… but _you_ tell him. That's one."

"All right," Dawn said. "So what's two?"

"You kiss Sh'rin as openly as I kiss Xander," Buffy said. "You don't hide this at all. You don't have to, I won't have you feeling like you do."

"Can I start _after_ I've talked to Giles?" Dawn asked. "I don't want to give him a heart attack, you know?"

"Okay, good idea," Buffy admitted. "But you tell Giles tomorrow morning, after breakfast at the latest. Okay?"

"Deal," Dawn said— and hugged Buffy again. "Buffy… thank you. I love you."

"I love you, too," Buffy said. "And you're welcome.

"Now… go. Get changed if you're going to, and go to Sh'rin— and by the way, I do approve of that. You two… fit. In fact, you fit like Willow and Tara."

"Thank you," Dawn said, and kissed Buffy's cheek. "That… nicest thing you could have said."

"Which is why I said it," Buffy said. "Well, that and that it's true.

"Now, shoo— I need to go snuggle Xander."

"Yes, you do," Dawn said, standing and pulling Buffy up with her. "And you know… you two fit, too— like Willow and Tara."

"Yes, we do," Buffy said. "And thank you."

They said their good nights, and Dawn went to her room while Buffy went to find Xander and re-watch the Matrix.

Dawn found Sh'rin asleep, and just got out of her clothes, slid into the bed naked. Sh'rin woke when Dawn slid into the bed, sat up, looked at Dawn in the moonlight.

"Sleepy, still?" Dawn asked.

"No, I am not," Sh'rin said, reaching over and caressing Dawn's cheek. "You are… free of the things that weighed on you so heavily?"

"I am," Dawn said, and kissed Sh'rin's palm. "You were right— going to Elaine and Rose was the right thing to do. They loved me— and that made it so that I can love you."

Sh'rin kissed Dawn, who kissed back hard, pulled the smaller girl over on top of her.

It was almost two hours later when they fell asleep.

"Everything cool with Dawn?" Xander asked after Buffy had kissed him hello.

"I guess so," Buffy said. "But… well, let's just say I feel kind of old right now. Or maybe just old-fashioned."

"Dawn and Sh'rin?" Xander asked. "Or Dawn and Elaine and Rose?"

"God, I hate how you and Willow always see these things before I do!" Buffy said. "She's in love with Sh'rin, yeah. In fact, right now— no, I can't go there. Not visualizing that."

"Letting her be who she is? Probably the wisest course," Xander said.

"I know it is," Buffy said. "But… well, I guess it's a good thing we forgot to ask her about Whitey and the Guardians' name for him now— it wouldn't be fair to ask her to hide something like us worrying about that, trying to find out more from Sh'rin— not now."

"And a good point from the Buffster," Xander said. "We'll figure it out, Buff. Or we'll find a way to deal when it blows up in our faces. We always do."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "But… later. Press 'play,' Xander— so we have an excuse to make out!"

"Best idea I've heard lately," Xander said— and pressed the 'play' button on the remote control.


	34. Chapter 34

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 34 _Rose:_

I woke up sometime after one in the morning the night— morning?— after Sunrise made love with us, and felt very, very much like a little brat. Maybe even a little bitch.

See, Sunrise reminding me of how I'd said I wouldn't lie to mom, not even by not telling her about the Slayer gig… that made me realize that I'd been lying to her anyway— about my sex life. Maybe just by omission, but that didn't make it any better. It was still lying.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't— god, the things she'd come back from, for me, for Laurie… I couldn't lie to her.

I tossed and I turned for maybe half an hour after I woke up, then I got up, being careful not to wake Elaine, and slipped over to my room. I put on a pair of sweats and a sports bra, grabbed my sword, and went to try and exhaust myself enough to sleep until morning— when I'd damn well tell Mom what was going on, talk it out with her, take any lumps she thought I had coming.

I went downstairs, started for the French doors to the patio— and almost walked into Giles as he came out of the study, with Mom right behind him.

I let out a little squeak of scared— they startled the hell out of me!— then said, "Uh, hi— what the heck are you guys doing up so late?"

"I suppose we might ask the same of you, Rose," Giles said. "In fact, we might well be more justified— as _you_ are the one carrying a sword."

"Yeah," I said. "I woke up, couldn't go back to sleep. Thought I'd exercise a little, see if that didn't help. And… you two?"

I think I must have sounded… well, intrigued, because they both blushed, just a little.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Rose Erin," Mom said. "We were talking— about the things I need to learn to become a Watcher."

I went wide-eyed— and I grinned. "Now, that," I said, "is the coolest idea I've heard lately. Neat!"

"I'm glad you think so, honey," Mom said, and hugged me one-armed. She looked at me more closely, nodded a little, and said, "Rupert? Thank you. And good night."

"You're more than merely welcome," Giles said. "Remember— Monday morning, you start training with Whitey.

"Good night, Kelly, good night, Rose."

"Night, Giles." I looked at Mom, saw that I hadn't fooled her— big surprise, right? "Mom… can I talk to you some? I know it's late, but… I feel pretty bad about something, and I need to… to tell you."

"Of course, honey," Mom said. She motioned back at the study. "There's a fifty-fifty chance Laurie's in my room— shall we talk in here?"

We went in and sat, and I waded right in.

"Mom… remember the day I told you I'm a Slayer?"

"I'm never, ever likely to forget that day, Rose," Mom said. "Kind of a big day."

"Yeah, I guess it was." I took a big breath, then said, "I told you that day that I didn't want to risk us going back to not being close by lying to you— and tonight… I realized that I have been. I didn't mean to, I just… damn. Mom, I guess that the part of me that wants to be totally honest with you got beat down by the part of me that's… that's afraid of you telling me I can't see Elaine anymore, and I—"

"That's not happening," Mom said firmly, and pulled me close. "Never, Rose. I love her, she's as much a part of our family as Laurie is, and I will never, ever tell you that you have to stop seeing her."

"Okay," I said, and hugged her. "Okay… thank you, Mom. But… this is complicated, Mom. It's— oh, hell, maybe it's not. I don't know! It seems so simple to me, but to someone else, it may look totally freaking nutburger-with-extra-wacko-sauce _insane_.

"Mom, you know I love Elaine. She's… I love her more than I thought I _could_ love someone who wasn't you or Daddy. And I want to be with her forever, and… and we're teenagers. I _get_ that. And so does Elaine, and after that first time we made love, she… she told me an idea she had about a way to maybe not fall apart, not drift apart, and I thought about it and I liked it… and I said okay to it. And it works, it works for us, and it's going to sound nuts to you, maybe, even probably, and… Mom, Elaine's not the only girl I've made love to since we fell in love, and I'm not the only girl she's been with, and— and we're both fine with that, because we love each other and trust each other, and—"

"Are you two and Dawn in a relationship, Rose?" Mom asked me in an even, level, not-mad voice.

"Buh?" I said. I shook myself, tried for a better conversational gambit. "Yuh… buh?"

Mom did the one thing that could have reassured me at that particular moment; she giggled. Then she outright laughed.

Then she grabbed a pillow and _ROARED_ laughter into it.

That got me giggling. Then laughing. Then I grabbed the pillow from my end of the couch, and I used it to smother my own full-on belly-laugh.

After a few minutes, we both got hold of ourselves, and Mom snorted and said, "Rose, I'm sorry, I know you're worried— but honey, you looked like a cartoon character! Your eyes all bugged out, and your mouth hanging open— and my eloquent little girl gabbling nonsense… it was _funny!"_

"No, not mad," I said, and moved closer, slid into Moms' welcoming arms. "You might have noticed me laughing, too, Mom?"

"Yes, I did," Mom said against my hair. "Now… could I have a straight answer to the question that started this, please? Are you and Elaine in a relationship with Dawn?"

"Not… not exactly," I said. "Mom… can I just… tell it from the start? Might be easiest."

"Go ahead, honey," Mom said. "But you remember— I'm not mad. Or upset."

"Okay," I said. I snuggled closer, and said, "Elaine's idea was that we both should be free to make love with someone else, but always, always come back to each other. And I… expanded that. Said that if it was someone she and I both wanted, we could maybe all make love together…."

I talked for a while. I told Mom everything. The two times Elaine, Kimber and I had made love, the time Kimber and Elaine had made love while I was off having sex— almost-but-not-quite-making-love— with Chantelle. And I told her about Sunrise being all confused and messed up over her wanting things and not being clear on what those things were after she realized that she was in love with Sh'rin— and how we'd helped.

Then I told her what Dawn had said about all four of us— her, Sh'rin, me and Elaine— all making love sometime, and that if she ever actually followed through on that comment, Elaine and I would be right there, willing and eager.

"And I guess that's all, Mom," I said. "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but… I honestly didn't think about it, not until Sunrise reminded me before she went to wait for Buffy so they could talk."

"It's all right, Rose," Mom said. "I understand. I'm not mad— though I admit, I'm not sure I like this idea…. But I'm not going to say no to it. I've had some time to think about this, even talked to Diane about it before she left, and sh—"

"Wait, hang on," I said. "Mom… how did you know? Elaine and I didn't even know, not until tonight!"

"Honey, Willow came to me very early on, and she told me that the three of you were… showing signs of being not merely friends, but potentially something more than friends," Mom said. "She said she was going to talk to Buffy about it, too— Rose, don't be angry at Willow, she was trying to help. She said that she thought that if Buffy and I had time to think about this before it got dropped on us, time to watch you three together… well, we'd see that maybe you were right, and you three did belong together."

"Mom, right now I'm as far away from mad at Wil as you can get," I said. "Tomorrow, she gets an extra-super hug— because I know she was trying to help, and she definitely made things easier here, and probably a lot easier for Sunrise."

"That's my girl," Mom said. "And you know… Diane brought up some very good points that… made sense in light of my personal experience."

"What sort of points?" I asked.

"Honey, the points she brought up might qualify as… what do you kids say?" She thought for a moment, then said, "Oh, yes— Rose, answering that question may well qualify as 'Too Much Information'— but I will if you want."

"Mom, I know I hit you with a TMI bomb at least twice tonight," I said. "So… paybacks aren't always a bitch, that saying's wrong. They can be good, like me paying back you trusting me by being honest with you, even when it was something scary to tell like about me being a Slayer. Or loving more than just Elaine. So… any paybacks involved here are regarded as 'sweetheart paybacks' by your daughter.

"TMI me, mom— I want to understand."

"Diane pointed out to me that every study ever done about sex drive and its relationship to work shows that people who do dangerous things for a living invariably have stronger sex drives and more active sex lives than people who have boring, humdrum jobs," Mom said. "And she was right— your father, Rose Erin Killian, was a sex machine— more so than before after he became a fireman. Any time he actually fought a fire, I knew that when he came home there would be as much sex as he could manage to keep going for.

"You and Elaine are Slayers. Yes, the job is less dangerous than it used to be. But it's still dangerous. Tell me truly— but without details, please— did you go right to sleep when you two went to bed last night? It was awfully late."

"No, we didn't," I admitted— and didn't even blush. "And again in the morning. So, yeah— I see what you mean."

"So… Rose, I'll try to get used to the idea of you not being monogamous, and I won't interfere at all, so long as you continue to exhibit good taste," Mom said. "But… I may never actually get used it, honey. I won't interfere— but I will ask that you… try to accept if I can't get used to it. Even if I can't, I'll not get in your way— but I may ask you to be non-demonstrative around me with anyone other than Elaine."

"Not a problem," I said. "I wasn't exactly planning on kissing Sunrise in front of you, Mom."

"Why not?" Mom asked. "You love her, you find her attractive, you've acted on that— so if you do want to kiss her, and she's okay with it… there's no better way to find out if I can deal than by just doing it. And I did say _'may_ ask you not to be demonstrative,' didn't I?"

"Okay," I said. "If that's what Sunrise wants, or Kimber… okay.

"I suppose I should have expected you wanting to just… look and see if it bugs you, after Uncle Dave's story of teaching you to swim by tossing you in the stream on Grandpa Riley's farm."

Mom snickered, but looked thoughtful. "You may have something, there. Hmm."

"Mom… thank you." I hugged her hard, head tucked under her chin, half in her lap. "I love you. More every time I turn around, seems like."

"Sure, an' that's just the way yer auld mother would have it be," Mom said, her Irish accent thick as molasses. "An' I love you just the same way, my Emerald Rose."

That got her hugged again, and me sniffly. That had mostly been Daddy's nickname for me, but Mom used it when she felt exceptionally close to me— or she'd used to. That night was the first time she'd said it since Daddy had died, and oh, god, hearing it made me love her twice as much as I had the second before.

"Come on, honey," Mom said, back to her normal voice. "We'd better get to bed, or we'll oversleep. Since I'm supposed to cook breakfast tomorrow, that might be bad."

We went to bed, after I hugged her again at her door, and I slept like a rock after that.

I told Elaine what I'd done while we showered the next morning, and she said, "Good. I'm glad, Rose— seriously glad. I don't like hiding things from her, either."

"I need to tell Sunrise," I said. "No surprises would be best."

"Good idea," Elaine said. "Let's hurry a little."

We did, and when we got downstairs, we saw most everyone had beat us down to the kitchen. Everyone was there… except Sunrise, Buffy and Giles.

I went to Sh'rin— who was almost glowing with happiness, even in the bright morning light— and asked quietly, "Where's Sunrise, Sh'rin?"

"She is talking with Buffy and Giles," Sh'rin said. "Outside. She said it was best to do it right away, to not hide things from him. Buffy… she accepted the way Dawn and I would have things be, for which I am very glad.

"I am so grateful to you and Elaine… thank you, both of you. I am more happy than ever in my life— because you understood, you cared and you loved."

"You're more than welcome," I said, and hugged her. While Elaine was hugging her, I went to where Willow and Kennedy were sitting together and said, "Willow— stand up, please."

She did, looking a little confused— and I hugged the heck out of her. She hugged back, just as tight, and I said, "This is for talking to Mom. It gave her time to… think about some things, ask Diane about them— and she's accepted how things are with me and Elaine… and whoever else. Thank you."

"Oh, thank gosh," Willow said. "I was afraid you'd be mad, but… look, I know from Wicca that not everybody does the traditional one-on-one thing, and I thought— well I thought you and Elaine and Dawn were going to be… uh, an item. I didn't want that blowing up on you."

"You weren't totally wrong, Wil," I said. "But you'll have to ask Sunrise for details."

"Okay," Willow said. "It'll probably be Blush-fest 2003, but that will be funny."

I laughed, let Elaine hug her— and sat down to see how things were going to work out with Giles. I didn't have to wait long— the three of them came in less than two minutes after I sat down, and Sunrise went straight to Sh'rin and kissed the ever-loving heck out of her. Giles rolled his eyes, muttered something about "the exuberance of youth," and went off to the corner table where he and Mom always sat, picked up his part of the paper, and went back into it.

Things were pretty normal that day— right up until Giles told me that there was a meeting for Slayer teachers in the library at two.

"Um, you want me to tell Buffy?" I asked.

"No, I want you to be there," Giles said, smiling a little. "May I remind you who teaches kung fu to the other girls six days a week?"

"I… um. Okay!" I felt ten feet tall and made of steel.

"You'll have to separate yourself from Elaine for a time, I'm afraid," Giles said. "Only teachers at this particular gathering."

"I'm sure she'll understand," I said. "Thanks, Giles."

"Someday, I shall understand this youthful habit of thanking me for things earned by your own hard work," Giles said. "Perhaps. If I'm very lucky."

I grinned, and went back to looking through my email.

I went to the library at a five 'til two, and I was almost the last to arrive— but Vincent, looking very unsure about being there, came in just behind me. We both sat, and Giles looked around.

Giles, Buffy, Willow, Xander, Whitey, Vincent and me. I was the youngest there by years— nervous making.

No, wait— Vincent, despite his appearance and intelligence, was only six. But I still _felt_ like the youngest person there.

"Well, this is everyone, for the moment at least," Giles said. "In case any of you have not heard, Kelly has asked to be trained as a Watcher, and I've consented— but for now, we are the teachers here— and the ones who make the important decisions."

I think I "meeped"— but Giles ignored it, and went on.

"For now, we have two matters to discuss; effective Friday afternoon, we shall have eight more students, ranging in age from eleven to eighteen." Giles looked around at us all, saw no one reacting strongly, and went on. "And perhaps more urgent… the attack on us on the fourth of July. Willow, have you anything for us?"

"Only that I'm fairly sure that those vamps couldn't have been natives, Giles," Willow said. "There aren't enough murders or disappearances, not even enough injury-attacks, to support that many vamps here in Bloomington-Normal. And they didn't fight like newbies, so… not native."

"As I feared," Giles said. "Vincent?"

So help me, Vincent stood at attention before reporting.

"Sir, as you requested, Whitey and I scoured that part of town, looking for signs of additional vampires in the area," Vincent said. "I believe I found the building where they were staying, but I am not sure. Per orders, we did not investigate.

"However, there were indications that an abandoned candy factory near West Olive Street in Bloomington has been in use recently— and a half an hour of observation showed local residents avoiding that building most carefully."

"Excellent work, you two," Giles said. He looked thoughtful, then said, "It's quite early in the day, and this is summer. After this meeting, I think a team should investigate the factory. Buffy, do you agree?"

"Yeah, it's a good idea," she said. Then she turned to me, and dropped a sixteen ton weight on my head. "Rose, this is yours. Pick a team— at least three other Slayers, at least one Watcher, and it would make me feel better if you'd take Willow— but the job's yours, pick your own team."

I _definitely_ "meeped" that time.

"Rose, Buffy's quite right," Giles said. "You've the most experience of any of the new Slayers, the most combat skill by far. You know the town, and you, young lady, are a natural leader. So choose your team after we're done, and examine that factory."

"Yes, sir," I said in a low voice. I felt proud as all hell— and sixty-three times that nervous.

"Now," Giles said. "Any thoughts on who might be behind this? It might give Rose and her team something specific to look for."

"In going over our list of potential enemies, I found myself swamped in every bad guy on the planet," Buffy said. "In looking for loose ends… the numbers were much smaller. In fact, I only came up with three bad guys we've dealt with before that we don't know are dead.

"Drusilla. Sure, she's as nutty as a can of Planter's, but she's also pretty manipulative. Hates me for 'taming' Spike.

"Ethan Rayne. Wizard-type, loves chaos, hates Giles and everyone who associates with him. Also a manipulator, but this… felt too straightforward for him.

"And last… Amy Madison. Psycho bitch-witch, hates us, especially hates Willow. No obvious magic going on that night, but still… maybe she's being sneaky."

"That seems a complete list, yes," Giles said. "All right— there are certain things from those on that list that we can have Rose and her team look for. Buffy, Willow, Xander and I shall come up with a list of things to look for after the meeting and before Rose and her team leave.

"Now, about the influx of students that will occur on Friday…."

Giles talked, made good points— some adult would have to move out to the dorm-house, just to maintain a presence, and we'd need to hire or find a second cook to handle the duties out there at least some of the time— and suggestions were tossed around. No decision was actually made, and Giles deferred those things until Tuesday afternoon, again at two.

Then Giles, Buffy, Wil and Xander sat me down and told me everything they could remember about possible indications of one of the three "loose end" bad guys being present. I took notes, which pleased Giles and made the others giggle.

"Have you decided on your team yet?" Giles asked.

"Yes, sir," I said. "I want seven plus me, two to stay outside— a driver and a Slayer stay with the vehicle— and I want the SUV, not a minivan, please."

"Agreed," Giles said. "Who will you take with you?"

"Xander for driver," I said. "Outside Slayer— minimal danger, and I'd rather not go obvious with a threat. Sara's young, she's small— and she pulled her weight Friday night. I want her. People will think 'guy and little sister,' if they notice them."

"Good thinking," Buffy said. "Inside team?"

"I intend to slightly violate your intent," I said, blushing. "Two Slayers go in with me— and Vincent. That puts four combat specialists inside who have a physical edge, still, and gives us a second person with unusual senses. For the two Slayers, I want Elaine and Brianne. Elaine— we're a natural team. Brianne… any darkness won't inhibit her, and she may notice something that one of us sighted people won't.

"Willow, I definitely want you with us. And for a Watcher-type… Giles if something happens to you, everything after gets much harder, even impossible— so I want Whitey. He's good, he's dedicated, and he's protective. He'll step on me if I get stupid, which, while not in my plan, could happen."

"I have no problem with your choices," Giles said. "Buffy?"

"Substituting Vincent for a third Slayer on the inside team… good idea, Rose," Buffy said. "The rest of it… solid.

"You're good at this, Rose."

"Thanks," I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I was. "Now… I'll tell everyone not here. Then… I need to tell Mom. Half an hour, everyone meets at the SUV."

So help me, Xander actually saluted me.

"Your mother knows we intended to assign this to you," Giles said gently. "However… it would very probably make her feel better if you were to spend a little time with her before you leave."

"Definitely in my plan," I said. "Okay. Half an hour, Xander, Willow. See you then."

I went to tell everyone that I was taking them into an abandoned factory to look for clues as to who might have attacked us Friday night, and that it could be dangerous.

No one questioned me, or seemed to doubt that I should be in charge… except me.

Elaine saw my scared, hugged me hard, held me a second, said against my hair, "You'll be fine, Rose. You were made for this. Now… go talk to your Mom."

Ten minutes of Mom-and-sister cuddling later, I kissed Mom and Laurie goodbye, swore (very seriously!) to be careful, and went to get my sword and stakes. Five minutes after that, I claimed shotgun in the SUV by right of seniority, and we headed for the old Beich's factory down near the old train station— which, on reflection might warrant a check of its own. I pulled my cell phone, called Giles, told him my thought about also checking the train station, and he ratified my decision, then hung up after a warm, "Well done, Rose. You're thinking things through— which tells me that you were indeed the correct choice to lead this mission."

I felt simultaneously warmed and made more nervous by his words.

We arrived at the old factory, parked in the abandoned parking lot next to it, and we all piled out.

"Okay," I said. "Xander, Sara, stay with the SUV. Xander, call Whitey's cell, keep the connection open, but don't say anything if you don't see anything. If something looks not right, don't wait to be sure, say so. Sara, I don't expect trouble, but there are things that can come at you in daylight, so stay sharp. And if we come out, any of us, start the SUV immediately, even if we don't seem afraid."

"Gotcha, Rose," Xander said. He started dialing his phone, even while Whitey clipped his phone to his breast pocket and put a headset receiver on.

"Inside team," I said. "Vincent, you have point with me— you have the senses, I have the knowledge of what we're facing. Elaine, you and Willow next— old Dungeons and Dragons wisdom says the wizard goes in the middle. Whitey, you and Bree in the rear. Bree, you're our primary rear guard, since you don't rely on your eyes— pay as much attention to our backs as our front, okay?"

Everyone nodded and said an affirmative— and Whitey looked pleased at my placement of forces, which made me feel more confident.

"Inside, we're looking for anything that stands out as odd— but especially any dolls, probably but not necessarily disfigured. These will indicate the presence or former presence of Drusilla, a vampire female who appears harmless and usually sounds completely insane. In addition to the usual vampire physical gifts, she also has an ability to mesmerize, so you do _not_ look in her eyes."

"Definitely not a problem," Bree said. "So at least one of us is immune to that part of things."

"Good point," I said. "Second possible clue set, indicating the possible involvement of Amy Madison, natural witch of significant power; magic circles, pentagrams, other general magic symbols. Spot anything like that, sound off, and Willow will examine it. Also, Bree, Vincent— incense, especially scents such as sandalwood, thyme, rosemary— anything pleasant-smelling will be suspect in this place, I think.

"Third possible clue set, indicating the possible involvement of Ethan Rayne, a warlock of significant power; Signs or symbols of chaos. These include a head with two faces, indicating Rayne's god-of-choice, Janus, the two-faced god, an eight rayed symbol, each ray tipped with a drawn arrowhead, and a symbol that looks like a cross with a button-hooked bottom ray. Anything that might symbolize chaos to your thinking should be shown to Willow.

"Any questions?"

No one said anything. I took a deep breath, and started the hardest thing I'd ever done.

"All right— let's go."


	35. Chapter 35

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 35 _Elaine:_

"All right— let's go," Rose said, and I could see that she was nervous— which was just silly. She was made for this, born for it. She had that "natural leader" vibe (except in bed, for which I'm eternally grateful!), and she had a head for this.

Buffy and Giles putting her in charge? Smartest move ever— because who do you want in charge other than somebody who is so completely "never say die" that a bunch of women _who'd saved the Slayer line_ called her "the Undefeated" as a way of defining who she _is_?

We went to the big double doors into the place, and Rose grabbed one of the handles, held it tightly, and turned until the lock broke. Then she stepped back, said, "Whitey, hold the door and come in last.

"Vincent, you're with me. And if we do need to retreat, you grab Brianne. No offense, Bree, but…."

"None taken," Bree said. "Big difference between finding my way around when it's calm and when we're running for our lives. I'll need the help."

"Understood," Vincent said.

"One last thing," Rose said. "With the exception of Bree, I am going to order you all not to make the classic 'horror movie mistake.' Do _not_ forget to look up, people!"

We chuckled a little, then Rose let Whitey open the door, and she went in quickly, glancing up as she passed through the door, then moving right. (Vincent was left handed, Rose right handed, so this gave each plenty of room to work.)

We all got inside, stayed within twenty feet of the door, and looked around in the very dim light. (There were windows, but they were both painted over and dirty.)

"Vincent, Bree— anything?"

They both listened for a moment, and I saw Vincent lift his head and sniff the air like a big cat on the prowl. He spoke first.

"Nothing audible," he rumbled softly. "However, there is the scent of spilled blood— three days old, at least, and in this immediate area."

"I don't hear anything, or feel anything odd," Bree said. "No incense or anything, either."

"Okay, first we find where the blood was spilled, make sure there's no body with it," Rose said. "Then we clear this floor— if we need to retreat, we have to come through here, be it from above or the basement. After that— up, first. Less likely to be anything up there. The easy stuff first.

"Spread out in pairs, look for bloodstains. Or a body."

We moved into the room, a great big eighty-by-eighty foot space with four big, square concrete pillars in a square at the forty-by-forty foot spots. Vincent found the bloodstain, but no body, and the stain was small.

"Looks like they didn't waste any food," Rose muttered darkly. "Okay, clear the floor. Careful of the ceiling, especially near the pillars."

We moved in, spreading out only a little, and checked the whole floor as Rose said, cutting it into three broad swaths. To no one's surprise, it was Rose who spotted the vampire.

Just one, sleeping wedged in the space on the side of a ceiling beam. Rose spotted him, signaled all of us to be silent, then stayed in place near him, but not directly under, while we finished the last stretch of floor. Then she motioned us all back, spoke to Willow for a moment, and said, "Leave him for now. He's going to make noise, no matter what, if we talk to him— and we should."

We went upstairs, checked it briefly— the windows up there hadn't been painted over, and bright summer sunlight filled the area, and the floor above was the same.

"Okay, back down," Rose said. "We chat with the vampire on one before we go to the basement. Hate to risk warning anything down there, but… hate to go in without knowing about a possible threat."

Downstairs, Willow pulled chalk and some herbs out of her shoulder-bag magic kit, drew a circle under the vampire, filled it with signs and sigils, placed herbs here and there around it, then nodded at Rose.

"He won't be able to get out of the circle," Willow said softly, "once I've said the spell. Anyone who goes in won't be able to come back out until I dispel it. Okay?"

Everyone nodded or said they understood, and Willow spoke the spell in a quiet voice, causing the magic circle— about twelve feet across— to light up with a soft white light.

The vampire didn't move, didn't react. Rose sighed, hunted around some, found a good sized bolt, and threw it at him, hitting him in the stomach. He jerked awake, fell out of his little nook— but landed on his feet in full vamp-face, snarling, and leapt straight for Willow.

The look on his face when he hit the magical wall and fell back on his butt? Priceless!

"Hi there," Rose said when he stood up and stared around at us. "You, my fanged friend, are in the shit."

"Let me out of here, little girl, and we'll see who's covered in the brown and smelly," the vampire growled.

"Yeah, sure, that's going to happen," Rose said. "Look around, ass-hat— you're dead already. Three Slayers, a witch, a super-soldier and a Watcher? You might as well change your name to Dusty and get it over with."

"So kill me, and shut the fuck up," the vampire said. "Jeez, why is it they made the Slayers girls? At least guys don't talk you to death!"

"Bree?" Rose said softly. "Aim to hurt."

A stake whirred through the air, thunked into the vamp's right shoulder, making him scream-roar in pain.

"The Slayer who just did that to you is _blind,"_ Rose said. "So imagine how much we can hurt you if you don't answer our questions. We've got plenty of stakes, and I've got a sword. You don't die until we put a stake in your heart or we cut off your head. That leaves a _lot_ of potential for pain.

"So… feel like talking and at least going out quickly?"

"Screw you!" the vampire snarled.

"Elaine? Leg."

I tossed one of the four stakes I had with me, buried it in his thigh. Again the scream-roar, and he fell on his ass, didn't get up.

"For my next trick," Rose said in a steady, even tone, "I say a name followed by the word 'groin'— want to see it?"

"What! What do you want to know?" the vampire said.

"Were you part of the group that attacked us on the Fourth of July?" Rose asked.

"Yes," he snapped. "I was at the back, and when I saw how things were going, I split."

"Why did you attack us? Who told you to?" Rose asked.

"No one told us to do anything," the vampire said. "But we… had to. No choice. Five of you had to die, we had to kill you— and I still want to kill _her!"_ The vampire pointed at Willow. "Bitch makes my eyes hurt."

"Which five did you want to kill?" Rose asked.

"The old man with glasses," the vampire growled. "The short blond who acted like she was in charge. The tall brunette with the rack. The guy with the eye-patch— and her!" He again stabbed a finger at Willow. "Want them dead, still. Her most of all!"

"Where did you come from?" Rose asked. "All of you."

"All over the state," the vampire said. "I came from Chicago, maybe a dozen others with me. A couple from Peoria. Some from Springfield. The rest… all over."

"Why did you come?" Rose asked.

"Had to," the vampire said. "Just… woke up one night, and I knew I had to come here, to kill those five and anyone with them."

"Did you stay here for any particular reason?" Rose asked.

"I like… trains…." the vampire said in a dreamy, faraway voice— then shook itself, said, "No. No reason. Big place, empty, dark. Good crash space."

"What's in the basement?" Rose asked.

"Nothin' at all," the vampire said. "It's been flooded so much… man, that place is too disgusting for _me_."

"Good enough," Rose said— then stepped across into the circle, drawing her blade as she went, and beheaded the vampire as it lunged at her. Then she looked around at Willow, said, "Let me out, please?"

Willow broke the circle with a silver dagger, the light went down, and Rose stepped out. She sheathed her sword, walked over to Vincent— and hugged him, hard, her face against his chest. I could see her shivering, and wondered why she'd gone to him.

"I didn't like that," Rose said, loud enough for us all to hear— and I saw Vincent's arms tighten around her as he understood. "I didn't like that. It made me sad to do that— sadder to ask Elaine and Bree to help.

"But I had to. Like you had to kill Thirteen, I had to do that.

"It had to be done, and it had to be done fast— so I had to do it that way."

"Yes," Vincent said. "You did. I understand— and I am glad it made you sad. Vivian says being sad about things like that is what makes us human."

"She's right," Rose said. She slipped out of his arms, came to me, hugged me and shivered for maybe thirty seconds. Then she smiled up at me— a little strained, but a smile— and stepped back.

"Sorry, people," Rose said, her voice in control and firm again. "First-time-leader heebie-jeebies. I'm okay, now."

"No strain," Whitey said calmly. "Next?"

"First we check the basement, just in case," Rose said. "Then the train station. I don't even think he knew he said that bit about liking trains— so we check it very, very carefully."

"Roger, chief," Whitey said.

We checked out the basement, and… ew! Moldy piles of flattened out cardboard boxes here and there, mostly near the walls, where they had some support when, after the basement flooded, they started leaning against the walls. The middle of the floor was a mess, piles of rotten, slimy, moldy, former cardboard boxes everywhere. It took us half an hour to be sure it was clear— and we left very relieved.

The abandoned train station was, literally, right next door. We went out, Xander started the SUV, and we walked over, told him where to go and where to park, then walked over ourselves. We went to the bottom level, where the waiting room and the ticket office had been, rather than the platform upstairs.

The doors, formerly plate glass, had been boarded over— and Vincent stopped outside them, sniffed, and made a face.

"Something in there is dead," he said. "Dead and rotting— perhaps more than one something, even… many somethings."

"No knob for the breaking in," Rose said with a sigh. "Okay— new plan for entry. Elaine, Bree, I want each of you to grab a door, and pull it open when I say 'now.' Vincent and I stand back maybe five feet from the arc the door will open on, ready for defense. Willow, right behind us, Whitey with her to cover her if she needs to cast a spell.

"Places, please."

"One moment, Rose," Whitey said. "Not arguing, good placement— but I learned a thing or two as a cop, and I have something that will help if the smell's too bad." He produced a jar of Vicks Vapo-rub, opened it, got a bit on his finger, spread it on his upper lip below his nose. He passed the jar to Willow, and she matched him, passed it on. Everyone took some but Vincent, who said, "I would rather my nose be clear— and I can stand the smell."

"Thanks, Whitey," Rose said. "Good idea, thanks a bunch.

"Okay… places. Elaine, Bree, I'll count to three, then say 'now.' Ready?"

We were. She counted off, said, "Now!" and we jerked the doors open, breaking the metal lock easily.

The smell was bad— really bad, even with the Vicks. Dead, rotten meat. Awful!

But the light was worse. Sickly, red-purple light poured out of the open doors, and I heard Rose say, "Oh, shit, that's gross!"

"It is very grotesque," Vincent agreed. "Who could…?"

"Nobody go in!" Willow snapped. "There are trip-wire wards just inside the doors."

I came around and looked while Bree walked carefully back to Whitey, following the whistling-buzzing noise he made through pursed lips.

There was a big, open room, and in it, a great many high-backed wooden benches— almost like church pews— shoved rudely back against the walls. In the middle of the floor there was a pentagram unlike anything I'd ever imagined. It produced that red-purple light— and it wasn't drawn on the floor, it was laid out in dead animals, small ones— rats. Nose-to-backside, they were laid out, each one's tail draped neatly over the head of the one behind it.

"Holy Mary mother of god," Rose said softly. "Who the hell could do that?"

"I have an idea," Willow said. "Half a second, let me shut down the wards, then the summoning spell. Then we can go in."

"Summoning spell?" Rose asked sharply. "To summon what, exactly?"

"Vampires," Willow said. "It would call them here from a long ways off."

"Okay," Rose said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Sorry— little tense."

"No, I understand completely," Willow assured her. "Now… just give me a couple of seconds…."

Willow's pupils suddenly got very large, almost swallowing up her hazel irises— and something passed out from her, into the room. A second later, the light inside went out, and she let out a sigh. "Okay," she said. "Anybody bring a flashlight, or should I witch up something?"

She witched up something, since only Vincent and Whitey had flashlights, and they added their lights to hers. We went in, and found nothing but that pentagram, some things in the middle of it— and words scrawled on the far wall, words that Rose read aloud.

" 'If you really are my friend… you better stay away from me,' " Rose said, reading the foot-high letters. " 'And if you really aren't… you _better_ stay away from me.' "

(The second "better" was painted on the wall in all caps. And underlined. Three times.)

"Hello, Amy," Willow said, sighing deeply. "I really wish you'd let this go."

"The Madison girl, then?" Whitey asked.

"Yeah, it's her," Willow said. "Between the rats and that stuff on the wall being something I said to her once after she… did something that pushed me deeper into an addiction to magic… no doubt.

"Vincent… you seem least bothered by the rats. The spell's gone. Could you get whatever those things are in the center of the pentagram?"

Vincent did, moving quickly and with no sign of distress— which I envied him, because I was about to vomit from the smell. He picked up a small pile of papers, then came back out, handed them to Willow. She looked down, rifled through the pages— mostly black and white, but I saw a splash of red on one— then sighed, raised a hand, muttered in what I think was Latin— and the rats disappeared in a flash of fire that left no traces, not even any smoke.

"Rose, I think we're done here," Willow said. "Spell's shut down, and there's nothing else here. Can we go?"

"Not quite," Rose said. "We should check upstairs— what if this Amy put a second thing up there?"

Willow nodded, and we went upstairs— but it was empty. Then Rose said, "Let's go," and we left. In the van, I looked at the papers that Willow had, the ones from the center of the pentagram. On the top was a page from a yearbook, presumably from Sunnydale High— since Willow's picture was on it, outlined in red and with mystic-looking signs and stuff all around it.

Giles and Buffy were irritated at the evidence that Amy Madison had, for reasons known only to her, targeted them— but they didn't seem really surprised.

Sunrise only shook her head and said in a bitter voice, "Bitch."

The papers were pages from two Sunnydale High yearbooks, one from Buffy, Willow and Xander's senior year, one from the last year the school had been open all year, Dawn's sophomore year. Each page had one of the five people Amy had targeted on it. Each picture had been outlined in black marker— except Willow's, which had the red outline and all the mystic symbols around it to boot.

Giles debriefed us, told everyone they'd done an excellent job, and let us go our own ways. Rose went straight to see her mom and Laurie, and I went into the kitchen to get a drink. I was squatted down beside the normal-sized refrigerator (as opposed to the walk-in cooler), picking up bottles of Green River to replace the cold ones I was taking for myself and Rose (we deserved them!) when Giles and Whitey came in, talking.

"I tell you Giles, Rose is amazing," Whitey said. "I've never been much of a follower, but her? I'd follow her pretty much anywhere, and I'm _twice her age_. The girl's got the leadership thing, that's all."

"It does seem that we lucked out in finding her and Elaine," Giles said. "With Elaine for support, Rose is much stronger than she might have been alone— and she's already strong."

"And she's smart, Giles." Whitey sounded pleased as hell. "After torturing the vampire, she was freaked— and she held off going to Elaine long enough to go to Vincent, to make sure that he understood that she hadn't liked doing it at all. Now? He'd follow her into hell, and he'd die to protect her. She pulled herself together fast, afterwards, and never mind how much that hurt her. Less than two minutes of hugging and being hugged and she was okay enough to do the job.

"She's a damned fine leader, and you and Buffy are damned good leaders yourselves— because you recognized it."

They went on outside, and I squatted there, a bottle of Green River soda in each hand, and I glowed for my Rose.

Then I went upstairs, took her a Green River, sat and drank with her— then made love to her until they sent Sunrise up to make us stop and come down to dinner.


	36. Chapter 36

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 36 _Rose:_

Dinner was a special treat after my first time out as leader; Mom made Grandma Riley's chicken! We all ate too much (even Xander, who's usually really good about eating sane portions— but he lets himself go on Grandma Riley's chicken, and nobody blames him), and Whitey called a toast to me!

"To Rose Erin Killian," he said, raising his glass. "Slayer. Warrior. Leader!"

Everybody drank, and I got all misty-eyed.

Buffy caught up with me later, pulled me outside, sat me down.

"You did it right today, Rose," Buffy said. "Everything, really— and I'm proud of you. Which is why I want to ask you to do something for me."

"I'm listening," I said.

"If ever something happens to me in the field, you take over," Buffy said. "You finish the job we were doing if you can, you get everyone out if you can't. But you take charge."

"But— well, if Giles is there—" I started.

"If Giles is there, you listen to what he says," Buffy said firmly. "But you call the shots. Giles is the best damned Watcher ever— but there has to be a Slayer in charge. If I'm down, that's you."

"I… okay," I said. I felt a weight come down on my shoulders, but I did like Daddy, Mom and Sifu Archer had taught me— and squared my shoulders to take the weight. "If that's how it is, that's how it is. I'll do it."

"Good," Buffy said. "Thanks, Rose. It's good to know I've got a solid second.

"And you know that if we ever split up, you're in charge of the second team, right?"

"I figured," I said. "Thanks for trusting me."

"Thanks for being trustworthy," she countered.

I hugged her, and we were still hugging when a familiar voice said, "Hey, guys— hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Faith!" Buffy said, and hopped up, went to our roving Slayer, hugged her briefly. Faith let Buffy hug her, even hugged back a little, though she wasn't so big on physical demonstrations as the rest of us. "Been a while— you doing okay?"

"Five by five," Faith said. She grinned at me, shook my hand. "Just finished off a wandering troop of vamps, found out some stuff, thought I'd better bring it back— turns out you found out about it already. Seems they were under a magical compulsion to be headed for this place. Also seems our new prodigy, here, led the team that found the thing causing it, so Willow could take it apart.

"Good job, Rose— first time out of the gates and you bring home the blue ribbon."

"Thanks," I said. "But I can't take the credit— I had a good team."

"Good team ain't much without a good leader," Faith said. "Hey, the kitchen smells like heaven— any of that chicken I smelled left over? I'm starved."

We got Faith some leftover chicken, potatoes and green beans, and she talked about the things Giles had sent her after while she ate.

"So, yeah, I took out the ten vamps that were headed this way, then figured I'd come back and pick my room in the new place," Faith finished. "Thought I'd stick around a few, meet the newbies Friday. And see if Robin wants an extra set of hands when he goes to Cleveland. I may not have the time in that you did, B, but I've got some time in on a Hellmouth town."

"And of course, seeing Robin is secondary," Buffy said.

"Well, yeah, it's… pretty important, I cop," Faith said. "But you know, if Giles needs me to keep playing Road Warrior, that's how it'll be."

"Talk to him about it," Buffy said. "I know that he's sent Rona and Vi on a mission or two apiece, when it was out in the western part of the country. Maybe they like the idea of being wandering trouble-Slayers.

"None of us has to carry all the weight anymore, Faith."

"Yeah," Faith said, grinning. "I'll talk to Giles."

Faith finished eating, rinsed her dishes, and we went in, and in the living room, found most everyone sitting and staring at Vincent and Vivian, curled up together on the couch, both of them with their eyes closed, her head on his chest, a huge, wondering smile on her face— and a funny, rhythmic, cyclic rumbling sound in the air. It took me a few seconds to get it, but I was faster than Buffy or Faith.

"Holy crap," I said, amazed and a lot delighted. "Vincent's purring!"

Vincent opened one eye looked at me, said, "Shouldn't I be? I'm very happy."

"No, that's great," I said. "That's— Vincent, that's one more difference you've got, most people can't purr— but most everyone likes to hear purring. Or feel it. Or both."

"I certainly love it," Vivian said, not lifting her head or opening her eyes. "In fact, I'd say it's an even better side effect of the cat DNA than the claws."

"Cat DNA?" Faith said softly. "Okay, can one of you explain that? 'Cause this I've got to hear, but I don't wanna disturb the big guy or Viv."

"Come on," Buffy said. "We'll tell you. Rose? Grab your sword, would you? Faith's never seen you get all nifty-deadly that way."

I grabbed my sword, and we three went out to talk about Vincent, and so I could show off. Faith was impressed by Vincent's story, and by my forms. She, Buffy and I ended up talking until about nine, when I went off to bed, taking Elaine with me.

Not much happened over the next couple of days, except… well, Tuesday morning, Sunrise asked if Elaine and I would like to make love with her and Sh'rin that night. Of course we said yes!

Tuesday afternoon's teacher's meeting went well— Whitey and I had gotten together and worked out a training schedule for martial arts that let us teach a blended style to everyone, and start teaching each other. Giles liked that a lot, and so did Buffy.

Giles had also found a young woman to act as cook for and housemother to our eight new girls, a former Sunnydale native, and a Sunnydale High graduate from the same year as Buffy, Xander and Willow.

"Her name is Nancy O'Brien," Giles said. "She's your age, Buffy, and has recently finished a bachelor's degree in Education, with an eye towards English. She put herself through school working for a caterer, and has some impressive recommendations regarding her cooking skills.

"Add in that she's one of those who recognized and realized that the supernatural is quite real, and remembers you fondly as 'Class Protector,' Buffy, and I believe she'll fit quite well. She'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

"How did you find her, Giles?" Buffy asked.

"Actually, I cannot take the credit," Giles said. "Willow found her and approached her."

"I saw her name in an article about those people who'd left Sunnydale in time to avoid the disaster," Willow admitted. "She did her last semester of college in Sacramento, and some newspaper interviewed her. I saw it while looking around for survivors we might know, saw that she was a qualified teacher, remembered that Giles was looking for teachers, etc, emailed her… the rest was Giles."

We talked some more about curriculum, both Slayer and school types, then broke up and went our separate ways 'til dinner.

Between the death of Captain Asshole (AKA Jerry the Love-Potion-Rapist) and the Fourth of July, Xander and some of the others had helped me, Mom and Laurie get the few items of furniture that we actually cared about out of the old house— mom's dresser, Laurie's old chest that had been her mother's hope chest, Grandma Riley's rocking chair… and my four-post bed, which was, by then, set up in my room. Since I had the biggest bed of the four of us, Sunrise, Sh'rin, Elaine and I stayed in my room that night to make love, and eventually to sleep. (_Very_ eventually— we just kept on going, like four extremely horny Energizer Bunnies.)

Sh'rin… long before we four stopped making love, I loved her as much as I did Sunrise. She was sweet, wild, eager-to-please, uninhibited, sexy— a perfect match for our Sunrise girl, matching or countering her in all the right ways. We made love in every possible combination we could think of, all the twos and threes, and all four of us together. Afterwards, we all talked a bit, and decided that this would definitely not be a one-time occurrence. Not every night, probably not every other night, even— but more than once a week, most likely.

"I hope that it is this way forever," Sh'rin said as we all shifted around to prepare for sleep. "That we four may be lovers always. Always be close by, that we do not miss each other.

"There are things that Dawn and I will seek that do not please you, for we both love men as well as women— but we will find a man who understands that he may not always be with us, or he will not _deserve_ to be with us."

"Sounds like a plan," Elaine murmured from where she lay spooned up to Sh'rin's back. "A really _good_ plan."

"I love the idea," Sunrise said from behind me. She was spooned up to my back, and Sh'rin and I were cuddling face-to-face— a nice, warm, cuddly arrangement. "Gets my vote."

"Mine, too," I said, even as I started drifting off to sleep. "Love you all, so it's… perfect."

We split up to my room and Sunrise's in the morning— the showers in the bathrooms were big enough for all four of us, but if we showered together, it'd just lead to more love-making— and I got a shock when Elaine and I came down to breakfast. She and I were the last ones down, and when we came in, Sunrise and Sh'rin stood up, came to us— and kissed us! Romantic, lover's kisses, I mean! Sunrise kissed me first while Sh'rin kissed Elaine, then they switched.

No one seemed to much react. Oh, Giles shook his head and said, "Young people today," under his breath— but he didn't sound at all really upset.

I looked at Mom (sitting down, Xander had the breakfast cooking duty that day), and she rolled her eyes a little, then gave me this little wave that said to me, "Go on, that wasn't upsetting, you have my permission."

We sat, and we ate— and nobody made a big deal of it.

After that… well, we kissed each other a lot, all four of us. It felt so good to be able to relax that way!

Faith joined in the martial arts classes that day, both my class and Whitey's, and things just… went well.

Nancy O'Brien arrived that afternoon, and immediately fit in. Pretty, with light brown hair and darker highlights, athletic, and smart. I liked her from the moment she asked if she could join the martial arts classes.

Friday morning, Faith seemed a little jittery. Not badly, but… eager. I figured that she and Robin Wood must be pretty close. When he and the girls got there at four in the afternoon, I got proved right. This slim, handsome black man, shaved bald, but with a neat goatee and mustache, got out from behind the wheel of one of the two vans that pulled in, and Faith stepped up, a little nervous-looking— right up until he hugged her, which she turned into kissing him.

Then there came a plethora of girls, and it got nuts until Giles called for order, and he and Robin (who I liked from the first ten seconds) made introductions.

Rona Thompson, Violet ("Call me Vi") Benson, Caridad Montoya, Shannon Mosley and Ling Chao-Ahn were all survivors of the Battle of the First, and ran the gamut from hard-bodied, muscular black girl (Rona) to lithe Asian (Chao-Ahn), to petite, delicate-looking redhead (Vi). But each one had done the job, faced off against the Turok-han under Sunnydale, so I bowed properly to them all. I even managed a proper greeting to Chao-ahn in Cantonese, which delighted her.

Then came the newbies, and I had been briefed (as an instructor) on each one, so I knew the problems that made them "special attention" students, both visible and non-visible.

Abelena Juarez, age eighteen, completely deaf due to a childhood accident, unlikely to heal even with the Slayer power. She was tall, a little too skinny, pretty in a plain-Jane kind of way— except for her eyes, which were freaking gorgeous— big, dark eyes, almost black, and very expressive. Giles had already gotten us all books on American Sign Language, and I managed to say hello without scandalizing anyone— she didn't laugh or look shocked at least.

Elise Morgan, age eighteen, stuck on crutches, probably forever, due to a car accident the night of her freshman homecoming dance. Her legs had limited mobility, but she couldn't stand for more than a couple of minutes without the crutches, couldn't walk at all without them. Pretty little blond, if pretty in that bland, news anchor sort of way.

Jenna Darius, age sixteen, came from series of abusive foster homes— after having been taken away from her father, who'd been forcing her to have sex with him since she was eight. She had issues with both temper and trust… and resisted every attempt at therapy. Short chestnut hair matched skin only a couple of shades lighter, and eyes the same color. She'd have been beautiful, if not for the perpetually sullen look.

Helena Parris, age fifteen, black hair, vaguely Asian features, a little pudgy (but losing it rapidly, by the look of her clothes and skin— the Slayer power amps your metabolism up, gets you in shape whether or not you feel you need it), and missing her left arm from halfway between elbow and wrist, thanks to a motorcycle accident while riding with her father— who had died.

Tracy Bronson, age fourteen, tall, flame-haired and sexy as hell, had a severe case of epilepsy, and was subject to _petit mal_ seizures almost daily. On the plus side, she'd been having them less and less often since getting Slayer-ized— but for now, she needed help and care from people who could match her strength.

Felicia Schwartz, age fourteen. Very pudgy, though like Helena, you could see that she was losing the excess weight fast. Light brown hair, pale skin, angry-frightened blue eyes. She had suffered serious emotional abuse at the hands of parents who belittled her with every breath and action. Her father had beaten her often for misbehavior both real and imagined— and on the day she'd been Slayer-ized, she'd put first her father, then her mother in the hospital, beating them severely— but not doing either one permanent injury. Still, the "youth facility" where she'd been held for a time afterwards had been even worse. She'd had to fight daily, and been physically, mentally and emotionally abused by the guards for it. She had temper and self-image issues.

Delia Smith, age twelve, dark blond hair, naturally tanned, angelically calm (and beautiful) face… autistic? Maybe. Or perhaps traumatized, no one knew. She'd been in a mental health facility in Nevada for the last year, after being found wandering in a park in Lake Tahoe, starved, dehydrated, barely alive. She'd had on a name bracelet with the name "Delia" on it, but nothing else that offered any hint as to who she was. In her year in the mental institution, she'd never spoken, though she did seem to understand when spoken to, and would usually comply with requests.

Last and youngest, Chelsea Yoder, age eleven, tiny, too slim by far, black hair and skin as pale as mine, brown eyes— and a perpetual smile on her face, the smile of someone who's been given the greatest gift ever. No wonder, there. Chelsea had had _myasthenia gravis,_ a severely debilitating neuromuscular disease, since she was about two, had never learned to walk properly, she had such a severe case, had never been able to play with other kids, nothing— and now? She walked with a walker, sure— but she'd progressed that far in seven or so weeks, and she was expected to be able to lose the walker soon. She needed extra help because she had so little physical _anything_— strength, coordination, endurance— but Robin said she leaned into everything like it was the greatest treat ever to be asked to work her body and _to be able to respond._ I imagine that's how it really was for her.

I found myself thinking that this could be a very interesting time— or a very frustrating one.

We showed the girls around, let most of them pick their own rooms in the dorm-house, though Nancy did ask that Elise and Chelsea take the rooms closest to the entrance, to which neither objected, and she put Delia in the room closest to her own. The veteran Slayers, who'd be moving on with Robin on Monday, chose temporary rooms after the others had chosen their permanent ones.

The girls took their stuff, went in to unpack, and Nancy, Mom and Xander all started cooking, Mom and Nancy in their own kitchens, Xander on the grill, so we could all picnic together outside that night.

(Whitey and Xander had together built eight picnic tables from scratch in a single day— handy to have around, those guys!)

Dinner… it went better than it should have. All of the girls were well behaved, even Jenna, the sullen, abused girl. She was quiet, but not hostile.

I ended up sitting with Elaine on one side of me and Chelsea Yoder on the other. Vi, the redheaded veteran, sat across from me with Abelena beside her. Vi "spoke hands" fluently, thanks to a grade and middle school chum who'd been deaf, and that made things a lot easier for us all. I helped Chelsea out some— she didn't need a lot of help, but was still working on mastering the knife and fork, so I cut her steak up for her. I liked her a lot from the word go, just because she was so _happy!_ She didn't just bubble, she _fizzed,_ took every little movement she made as a gift, and didn't try to hide that at all.

Vi… wow. She was cool as hell. She'd opted to take Faith's place as Roving Trouble-Slayer, and she was honestly excited about traveling the country and killing monsters. She never talked down to any of us "newbies," either, like Chantelle later told us Caridad Montoya did. In fact, she said that she'd heard good things about us all, from Robin's description of our Fourth of July battle, passed on from Giles.

All in all, a great night. Good food, good company— and I honestly felt like I could help some of these girls.

I went to bed happy, made love with Elaine, and fell asleep happier.


	37. Chapter 37

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 37 _Elaine:_

So… newbies. Yeah. Most of them were cool, but I found myself having issues with Jenna Darius early on. Sullen, snotty— okay, abused, I got that. But that didn't excuse the sheer _arrogance_ of the girl! She acted like no one could possibly teach her anything about any subject, and that set my teeth to grating.

Still, there were prizes in the box. Rose fell completely into sisterly-love with Chelsea Yoder in about three minutes. I took maybe two more— I'm slow sometimes. And Delia Smith… any reader who finds themselves shocked that she attached herself to Kelly inside of about five minutes has not been paying attention! The Guardians called Kelly 'the Mother,' and they knew _exactly_ what they were talking about.

Come bedtime, Delia wouldn't go to bed until Nancy and Kelly had both hugged her— which left them both flattered as hell.

It was an okay weekend, so long as I stayed out of earshot of Jenna. She didn't always make snide, superior remarks, no— only whenever she talked. Sometimes she didn't talk at all. Those were the good times.

Saturday classes were suspended for the sake of the party atmosphere and settling-in time for the new girls— but Rose still ended up accidentally organizing some serious sparring, mostly by agreeing to spar Vi and the other veterans. Of course we all ended up watching, and most of us participating. Of all us junior Slayers, only Rose held her own against the veterans, and she admitted freely that she didn't think she could take either Rona or Vi "for real." Rona had endurance that impressed _Buffy,_ and Vi… well, she had _something_. She wasn't the technician Rose was, nor quite as fast— but she seemed to anticipate Rose's blows, and arrange to be elsewhere when they landed.

We picnicked every meal, and the weather cooperated. Sunday, Kimber and Brian came over, and I think it was a tie as to whether Rose or I gaped more openly when they came strolling up the driveway holding hands. They'd gone and fallen in love. Six-foot-one-inch, body-by-Playboy-magazine Kimber had fallen madly in love with five-foot-two-inch, body-by-skinny-geeks-are-us Brian Keller.

It. Was. CUTE!

Kimber admitted that she had been around less the last couple of weeks because she and Brian had been monopolizing each other's time, and I told her she was totally forgiven— truthfully— but that she'd better be around more, now that the bright-and-shiny-new-toy thing had backed down a step or three.

"No problem," Kimber said. "But I tell you truly, Elaine Marshall— that boy should have been a girl! He can do things with his mouth that I'd teach you, if me and him weren't being all faithful to each other."

"TMI, Kimber," I said, laughing. "And I won't even ask if you pay him back."

"Of course I do!" Kimber said. "And I enjoy it. So there's some more TMI for you."

"Thank you so much," I said— and hugged her. "I'm just glad you're happy."

"I'll be even happier if Willow knows a birth control spell," Kimber said. "I do _not_ want anything between me and him, and I can't get the pill without Mom's permission, which isn't going to happen. Making love with him… that's going to happen _soon!_ It's a fight to keep my hands off of him already."

I laughed— and Kimber visibly felt relief that I wasn't angry over her being faithful to Brian, an undeniable _boy_.

Robin Wood (a gentleman of the first order, and still undeniably _cool)_ and his group took off Sunday afternoon for Cleveland. Vi took off by herself, taking the car Faith had been using as Road-Slayer and heading for northern Maine, where something ("Maybe one of Stephen King's inspirations, who knows," as she put it) was running around and killing cattle, sheep, pets and people. Faith went with Robin and his group, and she and Robin were holding hands.

Just before they left, Faith said approached where Buffy, Rose, Sunrise, Xander and I stood, and said, "Hey, B— if we need a hand out there on the Son of Hellmouth, can I call for backup?"

"Of course, Faith," Buffy said. "We'll come a'runnin'."

"Nah, save time and gas money," Faith said. She grinned, then, and said, "Just punch some holes in a box and Fed-Ex us Rose. She cleans up, we mail her back— everybody's happy."

"And Faith Lehane gets the score!" Xander said. "Beautiful— been planning it long?"

"Since Robin said I could go with those guys, yeah," Faith said, and gave Rose a one-armed hug. "Seriously, Rose— the package may be small— but the contents are pure Slayer."

"Thanks, Faith," Rose said. "For that, I'll forgive the mailing me joke. Once."

"Okay, that's fair," Faith said. "See you, B, guys. Stay cool."

The Veterans took off, and we went inside.

Monday was a good day. No school classes yet, but plenty of Slayer classes— and between them, Rose, Whitey, Giles and Buffy had worked out stuff for all the new girls to work on. Most of them were no problem at all, just a little uncooperative, sometimes— Jenna and Felicia, mostly, though Delia could be a problem, when she got distracted or tired. But we worked out a way around that pretty quick— just stick her next Nancy during Rose's kung fu class, and she behaved, struggled to do as Nancy did. Then for Whitey's class, put her next to Kelly, and you get the same result.

Abelena and Tracy both worked hard, though Tracy had a seizure in the middle of class, and had to be held down (Buffy did that, without hurting Tracy, and made it look easy), then excused for the day. Elise… well, she ended up working with Whitey and Giles, who called over Xander. They had ideas about modifying her crutches as weapons. Helena, she just stuck with the group, and did everything she could. Rose figured out early on that Helena wasn't "twitchy" about her missing arm and the prosthetic that replaced it— not in the "I pretend it's not there" way, at least. So Rose put the idea of using it as a weapon into her head— and Helena got interested.

"If Xander and Whitey can't modify that into something that will break bones, I'll eat a pound of dirt," Rose said. "I'm not even all toy-obsessed like they can be, and I can see three or four possibilities beyond just steel-reinforcing it, and that's without thinking hard. So after class, you talk to them, and the three of you come up with something."

The class went really well— even Jenna learned something and kept her mouth shut— but that may have been because, for an opener, Rose and Buffy had sparred, light contact, full speed, just so that the girls would all understand that Rose really had a _right_ to be teaching them to fight. Even a wiseass "troubled" girl can figure out to keep her mouth shut after seeing _that_.

Sweet little Chelsea… she spent her morning with Willow, learning to reach for the Slayer power inside her, channel it into healing her more quickly, restoring her still-weak limbs to full function, in hopes that she'd go beyond the human norms later. And it worked! They tested her both before and after meditations, and there was a marked— and permanent!— improvement.

The early afternoon she spent with Sh'rin and Sunrise, listening to Sh'rin's lessons about herbs and nature. The late afternoon, she spent with Whitey, who taught her different sorts of body-thinking than what Willow did… again, effectively. He worked her more physically, and most of what he taught her was more about first concentrating on specific movements, then on making those movements instinctual and automatic. She learned, she loved it, and she _fizzed,_ as Rose put it, even more than before.

Monday night before sleep, Rose and I made love, then she decided to go and get a snack— I wasn't hungry— and she got one hell of a surprise.

_Rose:_

So… here I am, minding my own business, heading to the kitchenette to grab a peach or a pear— or maybe both— and maybe a couple of handfuls of Fritos, and I get the Grandaddy of all surprises.

I was walking down the hall to the kitchenette when I saw Mom coming up the stairs.

"Hi, Mom," I said. "It's eleven— isn't it a little past your bedtime?"

"Hello, Rose," Mom said. "I suppose it is a little late. Good night, dear."

I stopped. Mom sounded… funny. Way distracted. Not at all like her usual self.

"You okay, Mom?" I asked, stopping in the hall, letting her approach me.

"I'm just fine, honey," she said— and then she stepped closer, and I got a look at her face.

"Holy crap," I said. "Mom… wow."

" 'Wow' what, Rose?" Mom asked, trying to sound normal.

"Come here, Mom," I said, and pulled Mom into her own room. I dragged her over to her vanity-dresser thing, and sat her on the bench.

"Rose, what's gotten into you?" Mom asked. "I'm fine, honey."

"Yeah, okay," I said. I took her by the shoulders, turned her to face the mirror and said, "Take a look, lady— then explain yourself."

Mom looked into the mirror, saw her own expression— and reached out to touch her reflection. She looked… unbearably _happy_. I knew that look. I'd seen it in the mirror, the night I met Elaine, and several times since, when she'd made me love her more than usual— which, okay, happened so often that 'more than usual' pretty much _was_ the usual.

The last time I'd seen it on Mom's face, my Daddy had been alive.

"I recognize that look, Mom," I said, and hugged her from behind. "I learned to recognize it after you pointed it out to me the night I met Elaine.

"It's that 'look of love' you talk about sometimes, Mom.

"Now… talk to me, lady!"

Mom looked in the mirror, saw my grin over her shoulder, knew I wasn't mad.

"Rose… I've fallen in love with Rupert." She took in a deep breath— and let it out in a long, happy sigh. "He… well. He feels the same way. About me, I mean."

"Good," I said, and kissed her cheek. I thought for a moment, decided to tell her the absolute truth. "Mom… Daddy would like him. Daddy would like _this_. And since I was always a big Daddy's girl, well… Mom, when the time comes, can I be a bridesmaid?"

"Hell, no," Mom said, her face lighting up in a way that told me she wasn't mad, didn't mean that— or didn't mean that in a bad way, at least. "Rose, when— if— the time comes, I won't accept anything less than you being my maid of honor!"

She turned around and hugged me hard, and I hugged right back, kissed her cheek.

"You really meant that?" Mom asked. "About your father liking him? Liking that I've fallen in love again?"

"Every damned word," I said. "Mom… you know I'd never so much as exaggerate about anything to do with Daddy.

"But… I do foresee two potential problems, Mom." I said that with a grin, so she'd know there was a joke coming, and she smiled right back. "First… he's so British, he may object to becoming an American citizen by marrying you."

Mom laughed, nodded, and hugged me, then leaned back and waited for the rest of it.

"Second, I approve so much I'll probably stop calling him Giles, and I won't call him Daddy— only one man will ever be Daddy, no matter how much I approve of your loving Giles— and I won't say father, I'm not that formal.

"Can you imagine the look on his face the first time I say, 'Hey, Dad, what time do you want me home?' It'll be _hysterical!"_

Mom cut loose with an immediate belly-laugh— didn't even go through the 'giggle' and 'laugh' stages— hugged me and pulled me into her lap. We laughed together, and hugged, and I sat in her lap for a few minutes while we calmed down.

"Am I allowed to tell Elaine?" I asked. "Or should I wait?"

"Oh, we've already decided not to even make a token effort at hiding it," Mom said. "You'd have figured it out anyway, you and Buffy and Xander and Willow. And Whitey. And probably Vincent, though he'd keep quiet about it. And Elaine, and— you get the point. So I'm just going to kiss him when I come down for breakfast tomorrow— we figured we owed you kids some payback!

"Rose… one thing worries me some, honey."

"Don't, Mom," I said, knowing where she was going. "Laurie loves Giles. She loves you— and she hates Jerry's _ghost_ for what he did to you and to her bio-mom. She'll be okay. But… I know I'm the kid here, Mom, but maybe you should tell her before you go down tomorrow?"

"An excellent idea, thank you, Rose," Mom said. "Now… hadn't you better get off to bed before Elaine misses you?"

"Probably," I agreed. I stood, bent to hug Mom again, then kissed each cheek. "Mom… seriously, this is great. I'm happy for you— and for me and Laurie, too.

"Love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, my Emerald Rose," Mom said. "Good night, honey."

I forgot all about my snack in my eagerness to tell Elaine the news.

She was just as delighted as me. _

Of course, I went downstairs a little early. Whitey was cooking, preparing omelets to everyone's preferences, and I offered to help with chop and prep. He thanked me, let me take over chopping up peppers, onions and sausage and ham, focused on what he called "griddle toast," which was just bread, grilled in bacon fat— not good for you, but oh, so tasty!

Giles came down, sat at the table in the nook where he, Mom and Whitey always sat, opened up the paper, and started reading. Everyone else arrived but Mom and Laurie, and when they came in, I saw the happy, content look in Laurie's eyes, knew that she was as okay with this as I'd thought she would be. I grinned, and she gave me a sweet smile in return.

Giles stood up as Mom walked over to the nook, and when she got there, they kissed— and it sure looked like a doozy! One of those kisses that just goes places, without even asking those participating if they want to go, you know?

They broke after almost a minute, and Mom nestled into his arms for a moment before she turned to find the whole room staring at her and Giles— except, that is, Xander and Brianne, and Brianne had her head cocked in that "I'm seeing with my ears" way.

"About damned time," Whitey said casually after a moment. "Good call, people— you fit together."

"Go, Kelly," Buffy said, approval in her voice. "For that matter, go Giles."

"I don't know how you guys keep being surprised by this sort of thing," Xander said. "Kind of obvious."

"Well, how about all us unattached people come and see you, and you tell us who we'll hook up with," Brianne said. "Shortest distance between two points and stuff like that."

"Works for me," Xander said.

"Smartass," Willow muttered.

"You're just jealous that I saw it and you didn't," Xander said. "That's all it is."

Willow gave him a playfully wicked look, and we all sat down to eat.

That was a good day.

_Interlude:_

Lazlo Brown ran for his life, even though he knew they'd catch him. They weren't human, not even close to human, and he knew he was going to die— but he wouldn't make it easy for them.

The scary part was the bitch. She looked human, sure— but no way she was. No human could toss a cinderblock so hard that it punched through the grill of a 1972 Chevy Impala and right through the fan, into the engine— from fifty yards away.

And no human girl could pull off Ahmad's arm like pulling the wing off a sparrow. But she'd done that, too.

The other things were scary, sure— but at least they looked scary, not like some prime piece of ass that a man had to look at and want. That shit was what made the bitch scary.

Lazlo ran along the waterfront in Chicago, dodging in and out among cargo containers, staying low— those two things with wings, they weren't strong, but they had sharp eyes, sharper claws, and teeth that would shame a butcher's rack of knives.

_Clank._

The sound came from above him, and Lazlo looked up in fear, expecting one of the winged things.

Worse— he saw the girl.

"Make you a deal, banger-boy," she said, in a sultry, sexy voice. "You get to the river— Five hundred yards west of here— and jump in before I personally catch you, and you're free— so long as you don't came back here. I'll even give you ten seconds head start.

"Go!"

Lazlo wasn't crazy— he took the offer, ran like never before in his life.

He could see the river ahead of him when she stepped out in front of him.

"Aw, too bad." She shook her head, started towards him. "Sorry, banger-boy. But you guys really should have listened and gone to work for me."

He turned to run back into the mass of cargo containers and saw two of the bumpy-face-and-fang types that worked for the girl standing behind him.

He turned back and watched the prettiest killer he'd ever seen come for him.

Five-five, no heels, just slipper-style deck shoes. A hundred and fifteen pounds, put together with an eye towards tempting mere mortals. Hair the color of sunlight through a jar of honey, most of the way to her ass— which was round and tight, so very grabbable. Tits halfway between C and D cups, nipples hard and prominent under her white T-shirt, all above a waist you wanted to put your hands on, see if it was as tiny as it looked. Good hips, long, tight legs protruding from the white nylon running shorts she wore. Big blue eyes, a straight nose, a mouth made to be kissed— and an expression of pure contempt.

"What the hell, bitch?" Lazlo said, figuring he had nothing to lose. "Why you be tryin' to take over ever'body's business? What the hell gives you the right?"

"I'm strong," she said, stopping a couple of feet outside of arm's length. "I'm powerful, banger-boy. And I'm smart enough. So… I have the right.

"Oh, and by the way? Don't _ever_ call me bitch!"

Lazlo did have something to lose— his mind. It stopped working long before the bitch let his body die.

After all, you can only take so much pain before you go stark, raving mad.


	38. Chapter 38

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 38 _Interlude:_

When Claudia Steele finally got tired of listening to the banger cry like a little girl, she snapped his neck, dropped the body and turned to her vampire lieutenants.

"It's an hour to dawn, still," she said. "You've got time to dump him before you come back to HQ. Take care of it."

A female voice came from behind Claudia, said, "You'd better stay off of Ewing, though— go on into Chicago Avenue. There's been a big accident on Ewing, cops all over everywhere."

Claudia spun around, saw a pretty, slender, brown-haired girl standing behind her. The girl wore a lace blouse over a micro-skirt, complete with knee-high boots that sported what she thought of as "hooker heels."

"And who the hell are you?" Claudia asked.

"I'm your new best friend," the girl said. She smiled as she said it, and took a step forward. "You pretty much have Chicago under your thumb, as far as illegal ops go. I can help you control the territory, and expand— if you're willing to expand south."

Claudia laughed, shook her head, and stepped towards the other girl, reached out to grab her blouse and pull her close— but her hand bounced off of a sudden rippling in the air.

"No, you really ought to listen," the girl said. "See, you're all strong and tough, and I need that— but I've got powers of my own. I'd hate to have to use them on you, that's not a good way to convince someone to help you."

"Okay, you're a witch," Claudia said. "I got one of those on payroll already, why do I need you?"

"Well, let's see… can your witch do this?" the girl asked. She waved a hand negligently, and the body of Lazlo Brown disappeared in a flash of flame. "Or this?"

She gestured again, and the winged demon— about the size of a rhesus monkey, with a four foot wingspan— that had been diving at her turned into a butterfly.

"Huh," Claudia said, respect creeping into her voice. "Okay, your yin has some serious yang. So… expand south, huh? Where to? And why?"

"Bloomington-Normal," the girl said. "As for why— two reasons. There are two colleges there, which means it's a gold mine for drugs, and for prostitution if you organize it— all they've got is independent hookers, no organization, and most of them are seriously skanky.

"Second… there are some people there who'll try to stop you, once they know you're out here. They have the same powers as you, and they've got some people with serious experience at using those powers. They outnumber you.

"But if you go after them before they hear about you… surprise makes up for a lot. And my power makes up for a lot more.

"Shall we talk?"

"We could talk," Claudia admitted. She looked the other girl up and down, liked what she saw. "You dig girls?"

"I've been known to get sexy with the ladies," the girl admitted. She returned that long, appraising look. "And I definitely dig you."

"Solid," Claudia said. "So let's go back to my HQ, get nasty for a while, then talk about what you want to do, see what we can work out.

"I'm Claudia Steele."

"Hello Claudia," the girl said, letting her force field down, moving into Claudia's arms, caressing a breast. "I'm Amy. Amy Madison."

"Hiya, Amy," Claudia said, grabbing the girl's ass. "I got a limo parked a few blocks off— want to get crazy on the ride to HQ?"

"Very much so," Amy purred. "You know… I meant this to be strictly business, but after getting a good look at you… mixing business with pleasure seems like a _great_ idea."

"That sounds like a plan," Claudia said. "Let's do it."

Amy followed the young renegade Slayer back to her limousine, smiling all the way.

"Mmm," Amy said a couple of hours later. She was sitting up against the headboard of Claudia's bed, nude, slightly sweaty, and feeling very content. "Claudia… that was on beyond amazing."

"That sure as hell goes both ways," Claudia said. "Or maybe you figured that out after the second time you made me scream? Or the fifth?"

"Yeah, well, it all works out," Amy said. "Didn't expect to get laid out of this deal, but I'm not complaining. Not at all!"

"So… what are you wanting to do to what people down south?" Claudia said. "And while we're at it… what the hell happened to me? You obviously know."

"Long story, both of them," Amy said. "How about we get a snack while I tell you?"

They ate a full meal, pizza from an all night place, while Amy told Claudia about Slayers, what they were supposed to be for, and her history with Willow Rosenberg and those around her.

"So these girls just go and do dangerous shit for nothing?" Claudia said. She shook her head. "Retards. You don't do anything for free."

"Yes, they are stupid," Amy said. "But… they're smart in some ways. Not as smart as they think, though— especially not Willow. She fell for my little trick, never thought about what might be behind it."

"What did you do?" Claudia asked.

Amy explained about the vampire summoning charm she'd made, and how the Scooby gang had been forced to fight some thirty vampires.

"Willow and the rest found the charm, broke it— and never figured out that the charm wasn't the point." Amy giggled, snagged another piece of pizza, and said around a mouthful, "See, that was all a distraction. I used it to get close enough to do a specialized divination on them, while they were fighting. Analyzed them for their weak link. Then I analyzed the weak link, found what would break it, and set up that spell well away from the other one.

"Their weak link breaks, they'll all fall apart. Then they'll be easier pickings for us."

"So… what did you do?" Claudia asked, looking honestly interested.

"One of them— besides Buffy, I mean— has a link with a vampire. The bad kind of link, like it was a brother or sister, or something.

"I set up a summoning spell aimed at a vampire who knows the weak link, and a compulsion to hurt them. Strong one. Hurt before killing, I should say." Amy smirked and added, "That happens, they'll all be lovey-dovey-weepy-sad, and easy pickings for a while."

"You're good," Claudia said. "So… when do we go down there?"

"In a while," Amy said. "No hurry. I'll know when the vampire gets into town, and we'll wait a week after that.

"In the meantime… I've had enough to eat. Or at least enough pizza…."

Amy pushed her plate aside… and crawled under the table.

Claudia didn't object at all.

_Elaine:_

So the next Sunday was Chantelle's sixteenth birthday. Whitey hadn't been gonna make a big deal of it (other than to give her presents himself, and take her to dinner wherever she wanted to go), but when he mentioned it to Kelly, she decided that he had no clue of how to handle a birthday, and took it to the household Tuesday afternoon.

Soon enough, Whitey had passed out a list of things he knew Chantelle wanted and liked, and we all got together and worked out who was getting her what. We all did our shopping over the next three days, and got her a pile of really neat gifts. (Whitey, of course, went crazy, loving her as much as he did, and suddenly having money he could afford to spend on her. He bought her a Nintendo Gamecube and a huge stack of games.)

The week mostly went well. Oh, there were two problems with tempers, but nothing horrible. Buffy had to step on my least-favorite of the newbies when Jenna went off on Vivian for learning something in kung fu class faster than Jenna did, and Buffy stepped on her hard enough that there was an icepack involved afterwards. The second thing was Felicia— she blew up over Kelly encouraging her to eat more after a long, hard training day, screamed that she didn't want more, didn't want to get fatter— then broke down crying and fled from the room.

Kelly went after her, and twenty minutes later, they came back and Felicia apologized to everyone— before turning and apologizing specifically to Kelly, who obviously hadn't been expecting that, by the pleased surprise on her face. Giles, wise man that he was, let us all accept the apology, tell her that it was all right— then seemingly forgot about it.

Only he _didn't_ forget about it. Instead, two days later, he instituted a weigh in, and not just for Felicia— not for all of us, that would have been too obvious. No, he put it out there for Felicia, little Chelsea, to see if she was putting on weight (she needed to), Vivian for the same reasons, and Helena, who was also still sort of pudgy. Xander asked to be included, citing his own battle with keeping his lost weight gone, and Chantelle practically demanded to participate, to keep a sharp eye on her weight for the baby's sake. That made Felicia able to accept it— and when she saw that she was losing weight steadily, despite eating as much like a horse as the rest of us… she steadied down.

So Sunday morning, all was as usual— Kelly cooked breakfast, made fruit pancakes (which were pancakes topped with warm fruit pie filling instead of syrup, and several choices of fruit available), breakfast steaks and hash browns. People went their separate ways for the morning, and Rose and I got charged with keeping Chantelle distracted and out of the kitchen and the library. Not so hard, we took over the rec room in the basement and let her hammer us into the ground at pool. She taught us a lot, though, so that worked out. When Kelly called us for lunch (via an intercom system that Xander and Whitey had installed), we got still more distraction. We stepped out of the rec room into the hall, and found Vivian standing on her tiptoes some ten feet to our right— and kissing the heck out of Vincent.

They'd been constantly cuddly since his arrival, but never kissed that we knew about— and I can tell you right now, that was their first kiss— you can _tell,_ that's all.

They broke while we were still gaping, and never noticed us, just stood there staring into each other's eyes— and we went away quietly. Upstairs, we went to the dining room, Chantelle with a slightly eager look on her face— the smell of barbecued ribs was heavy in the air.

"Oh, ribs!" she said in delight when she saw the dining room table. "My favorite! Who do I thank?"

"That would be me and Whitey," Xander said. "I did the actual cooking, but he made the barbecue sauce— which is awesome."

Ribs, steak fries, corn on the cob, salad— a damned good dinner, and I will say that Whitey Penobscot makes the best barbecue sauce ever.

Afterwards, Chantelle, Rose and I got picked to clear the table, and when we finished, everyone was gone from the living room. We started to go upstairs to hang more (not really, but Chantelle wasn't supposed to know that), and Giles stuck his head out of the library.

"Girls, may I speak to you for a moment?" he called. "I hate disturb you on a Sunday, but this is… rather important."

We went, and when Chantelle opened the door and stepped in, everyone from both houses bellowed, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Everyone was gathered around the big conference table, which was piled high with presents, and a HUGE round cake.

Chantelle blinked— and then she turned and looked at me and Rose.

"Which one of y'all is the birthday girl?" she demanded. "And how come nobody told me?"

Whitey cracked up. He dropped into a chair, laughing hard, and shook his head.

"Chantelle Clarice Rostov," he said, gasping for breath. "This is Sunday— July twentieth. Does that date mean anything to you, you _dingbat?_ Anything at all?"

"The— holy god on a Bunsen burner, it's _my_ birthday!" Chantelle said. "I— ribs! Steak fries! Corn on the cob! My favorites!

"I forgot my own damn birthday!"

At that, we all fell apart.

The party was a great deal of fun. She loved everything, especially the Gamecube (big surprise) and the two hundred dollar gift card to Barnes and Noble's that Giles gave her.

The cake gave her giggle fits. It was decorated like a dartboard, and each candle looked like a dart. Given her "knack" for throwing things, and the way she regularly ate all comers alive at darts, it was perfect.

She hugged everyone, thanked us all with a sincerity that you could feel, and laughed at herself for forgetting the day frequently.

The afternoon went quietly— if you stayed away from the rec room, where a bunch of us girls sat and played her at various Gamecube games. That got pretty noisy, a few times, I'm sure.

In the evening, Whitey took her off to dinner with him, going to the Cracker Barrel in Bloomington, her favorite restaurant on the planet, then to a movie, then to Barnes and Noble's.

That turned into a disaster.

Rose and I were still downstairs with most everyone else, watching Toby Maguire as Spider-man beat the snot out of Willem Dafoe's Green Goblin when the phone rang at about ten after ten.

I was close, so I grabbed it, said, "Giles Acad—"

"I need help!" Chantelle wailed— and I pressed the speakerphone button, said, "Mute!" at Xander, who had the TV remote, and said, "What's wrong, Chantelle?"

"She took Whitey!" Chantelle sobbed. "There was five of them, five vampires, and she— she took Whitey!"

"Chantelle, where are you?" Giles asked.

"Behind— behind Barnes and Noble's," Chantelle said. "Giles, she took Whitey! He wasn't— he didn't even FIGHT HER! She said— she said she'd— HE DIDN'T FIGHT!"

"Are you hurt?" Giles asked, even as Rose bounced to her feet and ran for the stairs— presumably to get her sword. "Chantelle, are you hurt?"

"I'm bleedin' some, but that don't matter! The goddamn vampire _bitch_ took Whitey, Giles!"

"I understand, Chantelle," Giles said. "We're on our way. Lock yourself in the car, can you do that? And do you have a cross?"

"I'm in the car, I got a cross!" Chantelle said, sounding as though she was speaking to an idiot. "That don't matter, dammit! You have to find Whitey, Giles, you have to!"

"We will," he said. Rose came back down carrying her sword and a bunch of stakes. "We're on our way now, Chantelle— stay in the car, we'll be there as fast as we can, and we'll start looking for Whitey."

"God, hurry, please, _hurry!"_ Chantelle said— and sobbed, a horrible, heartbroken thing, even as she hit the disconnect.

"Everyone goes except Nancy, Laurie, the untried students, and… I need one full-fledged Slayer to stay here." He looked around for volunteers, and Viv and Kennedy both stood. "Mmm. This could be a feint— both of you stay. Kennedy, you're in charge.

"The rest of you, get to the vehicles. Buffy, Willow, Rose, Elaine and Kelly, with me— the rest of you as you like. Be quick, but don't be careless."

We went to the van, and Kelly took the keys from Giles, said, "I'm driving— I'm faster, and I know the town." He didn't argue, just gave her the keys and grabbed the shotgun seat.

Kelly drove like a madwoman— I wasn't surprised; something had hurt one of her kids. So… Super-Mom to the rescue, and I really doubt that any minivan ever got a workout like that one did, before or since.

She did ninety most of the way down Veteran's Parkway, where the speed limit's forty-five, cut in and out of traffic like she was racing at Indianapolis on Labor Day. None of us said anything about her driving, we just hung on and prayed— for Whitey, not for ourselves.

The car Whitey had taken (Team Slayer had five vehicles, now, having added a pair of cars to the mix, full-sized sedans in black and gray) was parked slantwise behind Barnes and Noble's, nose almost against the retaining wall that separated the back lot for the Barnes and Noble's and Schnuck's shopping plaza and the three-feet-higher back drive and parking area of the strip mall behind it. Chantelle leaped out as soon as we got there, and Kelly and Giles both gasped— hell, we all made sounds of… hurt, shock, fright.

A dagger stuck out of the back of Chantelle's left shoulder, high above organs, but still in deep. Her face had blood on it from a still-oozing cut on her forehead, her blouse was more torn away than there, and her jeans had been ripped in a couple of places.

"Buffy, handle the search for clues," Giles said as Kelly got the van stopped. "Rose, you handle the defense. Kelly, with me."

Giles and Kelly ran to Chantelle, Buffy and Willow started looking around the area, and I looked at Rose for orders.

"Sweep back here for trouble," Rose said. "I'll check up by the strip mall. Then you patrol a clockwise circle, no more than fifteen paces from Chantelle, Giles and Kelly at any time. When the others catch up, we'll add layers."

I nodded and moved to check the hiding places back here, being careful, trying not to get in the way of Buffy and Willow— or to be distracted by Chantelle's sobs as she tried, even while badly hurt, to tell Giles and Kelly what had happened, even while they were telling her to hush and let them help her.

"I DON'T MATTER!" Chantelle screamed at Giles after a moment. "WE HAVE TO FIND WHITEY, _I DON'T MATTER!"_

"Stop it!" Buffy said, appearing in front of Chantelle like she'd teleported, almost. "Chantelle, you _stop!_ You _do_ matter— and so does Whitey. But, honey, he needs you to be calm. He'd want you to let Giles and Kelly fix you, he'd be terrified that you're hurt.

"You need to calm down and let them fix you up, or you won't be able to help him, and that's the most important thing right now!"

Chantelle stared at Buffy for a moment— then let out one harsh sob, and said, "You— I— he let 'em take him, let 'em _hurt_ him, so that they wouldn't hurt _me!_ He got hurt 'cause he wouldn't let 'em hurt _me!_

"_It's my fault!"_

"No, Chantelle," Buffy said, hugging her, avoiding the knife still in her shoulder, but hugging her hard. "No, not your fault— theirs. They did this. Not you. Never you, not your fault, never your fault!"

The others arrived then, and Rose started issuing orders.

"Vincent, Xander, help Willow look for clues," she said. "Sh'rin, Brianne— play sentry together, east along the back, here, about forty paces. Sunrise, Sara, you take sentry at the corner back there. Elaine, check the roof of the strip mall. I've got the roof here."

I went to the strip mall, climbed on top of a dumpster, went to the roof from there, moved along it, checking for bad guys— nothing. While I was doing that, Rose went up a sturdy drain pipe to the roof of Barnes and Noble's, moved around up there, occasionally close enough to the edge that I could see her.

My roof was clear, so I dropped back down and resumed my clockwise patrol around the van. Chantelle had calmed down, and Giles and Kelly were cleaning her injuries— the dagger that had been in her shoulder lay to one side, and Giles was stitching closed the wound. Kelly was bandaging the cut on Chantelle's forehead, talking to her in low tones.

Rose came back down, shimmied down the drainpipe quickly, shook her head at my questioning look— she hadn't found anything either. She started a wider circle than mine, going counter-clockwise, looking at Chantelle worriedly occasionally.

Giles and Kelly finished working on Chantelle, and Giles called everyone together. Buffy and the others reported a negative on finding any clues, and he sighed wearily.

"We cannot stay here to talk," Giles said. "The police will undoubtedly take an interest. Chantelle saw the van that took Whitey going south on the Parkway, and believes they went past Washington. Rose? Kelly? Any ideas as to a place where we could talk?"

"The parks all officially close at ten," Kelly said with a sigh. "That eliminates a lot of places…."

"Officially, they close," Rose said— and I knew what she was talking about immediately. "But in some of the smaller ones, they don't actually enforce it."

"Franklin Park," I said. "Yeah, if you aren't causing trouble, the cops tend to not bother you. And with grownups with us… I'll bet they'd leave us alone."

"I'll drive," Kelly said. "Everyone follow me— I'll drive sane this time."

Franklin Park was a nice little place. A square city block of trees, picnic tables and benches, with a couple of swing sets— nothing fancy or complex, but pretty, especially in the fall.

Xander, Vincent and Buffy wrestled three picnic tables into a half-circle, and we moved to sit. Once we'd all gotten as comfortable as we could, Giles looked at Chantelle and said, "Tell us what happened, Chantelle."

Chantelle closed her still-streaming eyes, took a deep breath— and told us.


	39. Chapter 39

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 39 _Interlude:_

Dinner at the Cracker Barrel had been a treat— the home-style cooking, generous portions and warm country atmosphere made Chantelle feel at home completely, and the company… perfect. Her favorite person in all the world focusing on her, her on him… birthdays didn't get any better than this.

They'd gone to see Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl after dinner, both loved it, then headed off to Barnes and Noble's, still open for thirty minutes from when they got there, to let Chantelle pick up some things to read with her gift card from Giles. They'd browsed, pointed things out to each other, she'd grabbed four books (including the first hardback she'd ever bought for herself— which she actually stopped to thank Giles for in the middle of her story), he'd grabbed three, they'd made their purchases, and headed for the car. They'd gotten in, and that's when things had gone wrong. Whitey saw the other five vehicles immediately on backing out, moving to pen him and Chantelle in. He'd gunned the car, gone around to the back of the store, and gotten trapped there.

"He tole me to stay in the car, but I couldn't— just couldn't!" Chantelle said then. "There was five vampires, he had no chance 'gainst that kinda odds! I had to help, try, at least, even though it risked my baby. I couldn't just… just let 'im die!"

"Of course not, Chantelle," Kelly soothed. "You did the right thing, honey— they'd probably have killed you after they killed him, if they were going to, and you couldn't possibly have known that killing you both wasn't their intention."

Chantelle shot Kelly a look of incredible gratitude, and went on with her story.

She'd had a stake, and so had Whitey— but the four vampires who actually attacked had all been seriously talented fighters, had avoided Whitey's attacks with work, Chantelle's less skilled assault more easily.

One of them had stayed back. Not come into the fight, only watched, at first. A woman, dressed in cargo pants and a hoodie, the hood pulled far forward to hide her face. She had merely watched and sometimes made noises of approval or annoyance.

Then Chantelle got grabbed by one of the others, and tossed to the woman— who had promptly grabbed Chantelle around the throat and put a dagger to her stomach, low— right above her womb.

"Whitelaw, stop!" the vampire woman had shouted. "Stop, or I kill this little wanna-slay and her brat! I can smell that she's pregnant, and I'll kill them both!"

Whitey had frozen in place, a look of hurt, shock and horror on his face. The vampire woman flipped her head, tossing off the hood that hid her face— and Whitey had suddenly looked like he wanted to die, he looked so miserable.

"Melissa," Whitey said, his voice sounding… broken. "You… you aren't… dead.

"Leave her alone, Melissa. She's not… she's not part of this."

"She's part of you, Whitelaw," Melissa had replied. "I can smell you all over her, and her all over you. You love her."

"Yes," Whitey had said, looking Chantelle in the eyes while he said it. "I love her, Melissa."

"But it's only been five years, Whitelaw," Melissa had replied. "How can you forget me so soon…? And really, isn't she a little young for you?"

"I've never forgotten you," Whitey said, his voice low. "Never allowed myself to forget you. I failed you worse than I ever failed anyone, apparently worse than I even _knew_… and I live with that every single day of my life, Melissa. I've lived the last five years thinking I'd gotten you killed.

"Still… worse and all, I wish I'd known… this."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Melissa said. "And I'm so sorry about that, Whitelaw. Sorry enough to end it for you." She moved the knife from Chantelle's belly to her throat. "But what about the rest of my question, Whitelaw? Isn't this one a little young for you?"

"It's not like that between us," Whitey had replied. "We aren't lovers, or in love— we're the best friends we can be… but that's all."

Melissa laughed, wild and cruel, and said, "Good grief, Whitelaw— you are so _blind_ sometimes.

"She's in love with you, Whitelaw— totally, completely, madly in love with you. I can smell it, I can feel it on her skin.

"You feel the same for her— it's in your eyes, Whitelaw, on your face, written in every tensed muscle, and the way your eyes look around so desperately for a chance to save her. So stop pretending."

Whitey hadn't said anything for a long moment, just stood.

"Maybe you're right," he said finally. "Maybe. If I am in love with her, I haven't admitted it to myself yet— and I won't be comfortable doing so, not until I can admit to her and say it to her without breaking a law. Without having us both become outcasts for what we feel."

"You make me so fucking sick," Melissa had replied. "I'm tired of you already, and it's been five years between meetings, five minutes of conversation."

Moving so quick Chantelle hadn't seen it coming, the woman had slammed the hilt of the dagger into Chantelle's forehead, opening a wide cut. Whitey cried out— and the dagger was back at Chantelle's throat.

"Whitelaw, it's time to choose," Melissa said. "Here are your choices; you tell her the absolute truth of how you feel— I will know if you lie, she will know, and you will know— and we both know you couldn't bear the last two. You do that, my boys rough you up a little, we take you away with us, and you and I finish our business in private. The little bitch gets a by. She lives.

"Your other choice… refuse to tell her how you feel. Keep lying to yourself, to her. You do that… she watches you die. Then she lives— and she carries watching you die for as long as she lives."

"I… Melissa, I can't… you can't make her watch that." Whitey shook his head. "You can't. There's got to be something inside you, some piece of Melissa Newhart that won't do that!"

"No, there really doesn't," Melissa said. "Time to choose, Whitelaw."

For almost a minute, Whitey didn't speak. Then he said, so softly that Chantelle barely heard him, "You know my word is good, Melissa. Above all else, despite everything else, you know that.

"Let me hug her before we leave. Let me give her that. I give you my word, I'll do as you say… if you give me that."

"Let him go," Melissa said, and the two vampires holding Whitey.

They shoved him forward, and Melissa shoved Chantelle forward to meet him. He caught the girl, supported her, pulled her close, wrapped her tight.

"Chantelle… she's right," Whitey said, his voice breaking. "She's right. I've been telling myself not to feel like this for months, and it never helps, never changes it.

"I love you, Chantelle. I'm in love with you.

"I'm sorry as hell that I won't be here to help you raise your little girl, to see you become the woman I see in you. Won't ever be able to be… to be honest with you when we could do something about it.

"I love you."

"Whitey I love you!" Chantelle said, sobbed. She hugged him as tightly as she could without hurting him while she spoke. "I love you, I never— you wouldn't— I wanted you, just you, and you _couldn't,_ I knew you couldn't, that's why I let Jerome… I never loved him.

"I love you!"

She tried to kiss him— but they were pulled apart before their lips could more than brush. When Chantelle tried to fight free of the vampire holding her— Melissa Newhart, though Chantelle didn't know which it was then— she felt the dagger at her throat again.

"Beat him down, boys," Melissa said. "But don't break anything— I have plans for him."

They beat him. Whitey took it, didn't fight back, didn't endanger Chantelle that way.

He took it, and they kept going until he passed out.

"That's enough," Melissa said. "Load him in the van— then meet me at the kill-zone."

The vamps had tossed a bruised and bloody Whitey in the van, after which Melissa hissed in Chantelle's ear, "He and I were supposed to be married, did you know that? And he let this happen to me.

"He'd only have failed you worse, little girl— I'm doing you a favor."

"Go to hell, you _bitch!"_ Chantelle snarled. "I'd tell you to go screw yourself, but I doubt that your dildo could stay awake!"

Melissa hissed in anger— and stabbed Chantelle in the shoulder, shoved her towards the car, and turned to get in the van.

"I'll see you turn to dust, you bitch!" Chantelle shouted. "I may not get to do it myself, you goddamn evil whore— _but I'll see you turn to dust!"_

Melissa shot Chantelle the finger and drove away.

_Rose:_

"I… I… god, please, get him back!" Chantelle stood facing us, weeping uncontrollably, but looking at Giles steadily. "Get him back, Giles, and I swear to you, I'll go away, I'll go to Europe with the Slayers there, I'll never look back, I won't make you deal with that, but don't leave him out there, and if you get him back, don't make him leave, he needs this, he can help you, I'll go, but please, god, Giles, get him back!"

Giles sat looking stunned for a moment— then stood and went to her, grabbed her, hugged her against his chest.

"We'll get him back, Chantelle," Giles said softly. "If it can be done, we'll get him back.

"But you won't leave us. He won't be asked to quit, or sent away— but I won't let you leave us. Your feelings for each other… we'll deal with that when the time comes, Chantelle— but banishing either of you is not the answer. It isn't even an option.

"We'll get him back, Chantelle."

She hugged him, hard enough to make him grunt, and Giles said over her head, "Willow, Dawn— did either of you bring a computer with you?"

"On it," Sunrise said, and ran for the van she'd ridden in. She came back with her laptop, opened it and started booting.

Giles, who had passed Chantelle over to Mom to hold, said to Sunrise, "Search for that woman's name, please— and I think perhaps adding Tallahassee to the search will be more likely to get us what we need."

"Will do," Sunrise said.

Buffy and Xander came to Giles, then, and Xander waved Sh'rin over. Once she got to them, Xander said, "Giles… Buffy and I may have screwed up badly. We weren't sure if we should tell you something, and now— well, it's gone and blown up in our faces.

"Sh'rin… tell Giles what the Guardians call Chantelle— and Whitey."

"I… tell," Sh'rin said, looking horribly upset, losing all the gains she'd made in speaking English in her fright and fear. "Giles, Chantelle, she to the Guardians is 'the Genuine'— for she not hides who and what she is… except when she must from fear. She… not hide self, just how she feel for Whitey. Afraid of hurting him, self, having you not approve."

"I see," Giles said. "And I suppose I understand. But… what do the Guardians call Whitey?"

"Whitey… he is 'the Wounded,' for he carries old hurt." Sh'rin took a deep breath. "Dawn may find some— not find all. I tell. Not supposed to— not to say of future, or tell secrets not mine… but I tell now. Life first, rules later."

"Yes, that's a good idea," Giles agreed.

"Tell all," Sh'rin said. "Show all. Gather all, please."

"Giles, I've got not much," Dawn said. "She was killed less than a week after Whitey was attacked, probably by a vampire, and she worked for the Tallahassee PD as a dispatcher— but there's nothing else connecting them."

"Sh'rin has more," Giles said. "Everyone, sit— Sh'rin can tell us more."

"I… not supposed to say," Sh'rin said. "For not saying more, saying sooner… I hurt. I hurt for hurting Whitey, for hurting Chantelle— but afraid. To tell can change, and most times to change makes worse. Whitey hurt enough— would not do more hurt.

"I am sorry. Now… I tell. I _show_."

Sh'rin laid out a spell diagram of some sort around herself, added things from the shoulder bag she now carried in emulation of Willow, then chanted a song, or maybe a spell— and vanished under a montage of three dimensional images and sounds.

The story they told was pretty straightforward and easy to follow, but I'll just… summarize.

Melissa Rochelle Newhart had been a dispatcher for the Tallahassee Police Department while Whitey was an officer there. They'd known each other as friendly acquaintances, nothing more— until one night when they were both off, and they ran into each other in a bookstore, both of them there to buy Stephen King's latest book. They'd talked some, gone out for coffee after talking… and started down the road to falling in love.

Thing was, Tallahassee PD had a policy that forbade employees to date, and if they let anyone find out they were dating, one of them would have had to quit, and neither one wanted to. So for two years, they'd been a couple, but kept it secret. Then Melissa had gotten an offer to move to the Leon County Sheriff's Office, to replace a woman who was going to have a baby, and was quitting when she left, not just taking a leave of absence. She'd jumped on it, accepted the offer, turned in her three months notice— that being when the Leon County dispatcher intended to quit— and Whitey had asked her to marry him. She'd said yes, and they'd agreed to start "dating officially" a week after she left the Tallahassee PD, and make it a "whirlwind courtship" from there, announce their engagement three months later, get married six months after that.

Barely three weeks later, when Melissa had two months to go while working for the Tallahassee Police Department, Whitey and his partner had come upon the vampire attack that we already knew about— but we made one serious error about that. We assumed, from the newspaper reports that Giles and Elaine had seen, that Whitey had killed the vampire who'd attacked him and his partner with the broken broom handle that the backup cops had found in his hand when they arrived.

He hadn't killed it— he'd stabbed it in the crotch, making it scream and rear up off of him, then tried for the heart— and missed. The vampire had fled, in terrible pain and totally furious, when it heard the other cops coming.

Five days later, after seeing Melissa in Whitey's hospital room, seeing them kiss (no one from their work was around at the time), the vampire had followed her home— and killed her, made her a vampire. On finding that out… Whitey had thought Melissa Newhart dead, had blamed himself for the death of the woman he'd been going to marry, and had carried that guilt ever since.

Tonight he'd discovered that the truth of what had happened to the woman he'd loved was even worse.

Once the illusion had played out, Sh'rin stood and went to Chantelle, knelt in front of her.

"I would say sorry, if sorry were enough," Sh'rin said. "I should have told. Now you hurt, he hurts— I am sorry. Blame is mine."

"No, it ain't," Chantelle said, sniffling, pulling Sh'rin to her feet and hugging her. "Really, it ain't— you think I didn't know he was hurtin', Sh'rin? Didn't know that somethin' really awful had happened to him before I knew him? Didn't know he carried that weight still?

"I knew… but I thought there'd be time later t'help him past it. I was so _damned_ stupid!"

"No," Kelly said. "And watch your mouth, young lady.

"Chantelle, if you'd pushed him on his hurt, you'd have only driven a wedge between you. You did the right thing— both of you did."

"Okay," Chantelle said. "Okay, thank you, both of you.

"Giles… how do we find 'em?"

"Leave that to your friendly neighborhood super-witch," Willow said, standing. "I have you covered— Giles, set your teams while I set the spell up. Not a familiar one, gonna have to go the long route on this one, diagrams and all.

"One hitch, though— Giles, she'll have to go with you. Chantelle. She'll be your tracking device, sort of."

"Then we'll be careful to protect her," Giles said. "Buffy? How do you want this to be done?"

"Me and Rose on point," Buffy said. "Weapons of mass demon destruction first, and we're good at that. Elaine backs us up, and Xander— that worked well at Wolfram and Hart.

"Second team… Brianne, Sara, Chantelle, Giles and Vincent. You folks come in just behind us, and clean up anything we missed. Protect Chantelle and her baby, all of you— including you, Chantelle!

"Dawn, Sh'rin, you're our rear guard, and once we make it into wherever Whitey is, you two hold the exit.

"Willow, you wait outside with our getaway driver— that's you, Kelly, you impressed the hell out of me with the way you drove tonight— and be ready to strip down any wards or spells that you can find. This reeks of a trap— how did Melissa know Whitey was here? Why come now? Why not just kill him and be done with it?

"So… trap. And probably Amy again."

"Bitch," I muttered. "I'm gonna enjoy it when we finally catch up to her."

"Language, Rose," Mom said.

"Sorry, Mom— but it's true," I said.

"Okay, Chantelle," Willow called from where she'd inscribed a magic circle. "Come over here, honey."

Chantelle joined Willow in the circle, and Willow closed it.

"You said that when you tried to kiss each other, they pulled you away," Willow said. "But… your lips touched? Just a little? You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Chantelle said. "I'll never forget it, Willow. Not ever. It was just a brush— and it's what I been waitin' for my whole life, I think."

"Aww, that's sweet," Willow said. "Okay, then— remember that moment, Chantelle— call it up. Remember it. Focus on it, think about it, live it over and over. Hold it in your mind— and in your heart."

Chantelle's eyes closed, and her face slowly… lit up. Lit up with a look that I knew, that I'd seen on my face, Elaine's face, Buffy's, Xander's, Sh'rin's, Sunrise's, even the faces of Mom and Giles.

'The look of love'— god, it made Chantelle so gorgeous that it hurt to look at her.

"Two hearts are joined, one soul is made," Willow said in a voice that started soft, picked up power as she went on. "True love is born, to never fade. What eyes can't see, joined souls will know, let love's soft touch love's path now show!"

Chantelle gasped a little— and happy tears fell from her closed eyes.

"He's alive!" she sobbed. "Oh, thank you, god, Whitey's alive!

"Turn in place, honey," Wil said. "You'll know when you're facing him."

Chantelle turned in a slow circle, stopped while facing south-southeast. "There! That way! But… I can't tell how far."

"That's okay, sweetie," Willow said. "You'll know more as we get closer."

We loaded up and moved out— and went to the place that one of us Bloomington-Normal natives should have thought of as the perfect vampire hiding place.

After all… vampires _suck!_


	40. Chapter 40

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 40

_Elaine:_

Bad pun and all, Rose was right. We should have seen it, us natives. I got suspicious when we followed Clinton Street all the way to where it dead-ends at Oakland Avenue, and when we turned around on Oakland and backtracked only a little ways east of Hannah Street, I knew. I shook my head and sighed.

"Mom, go slow along here," Rose said. "They're really near here— I'd bet money on it."

"Are you picking up something from Chantelle, Rose or— oh, no." Kelly realized where we were, shook her head and said, "No, they wouldn't be so… tacky!"

"Sure they would, Mom," Rose said, even as Chantelle yelped, said we'd just passed him on our left. "See? Told you so.

"Vampires suck!"

Giles looked utterly horrified when he saw the sign on the building that Kelly turned into the parking lot for, looked at Rose and said, "Young lady, puns such as that are the very lowest form of humor."

Rose looked at the old, shut-down Eureka _vacuum cleaner_ plant we had parked next to, and said, "Maybe so, but it's still true."

"This is so many levels of wrong," Buffy said as she climbed out. "Okay, so vampires suck. Well, now we make them dust."

I'm not entirely sure, but I _think_ that Giles whimpered when she said that….

We got out, got organized, and got armed. Buffy looked at the case under the back seat of the van, the one that held the Scythe, and shook her head, contented herself with stakes.

We went to the doors, found the latch broken, and went in quietly. From off to our right, deeper into the building, we heard music, some old rock group from the seventies, I think, and we went that way.

We found a great big metal door, music coming from behind it, and the sounds of a great many… _beings_ having a party.

Snarls. Hisses. Roars, if quiet ones. _Squelches_. (Eww!) Growls. Slitherings… not a happy collection of sounds.

Rose waved at Buffy, made motions like swinging an axe. Buffy hesitated, then nodded, motioned for us to stay still— and went for the Scythe, or started to. Sunrise had figured it out, and made a "stop" motion at Buffy— then took off at a run to get her sister's weapon for her, without diminishing our strength overmuch while we waited, in case something went wrong.

Smart girl, our Sunrise! She was back very quickly with the Scythe for Buffy— and a long sword for herself, and several other bigger-than-stakes weapons for people to pick from. She'd heard the noises, figured that this wasn't just a vampire party, and grabbed as much as she could in the way of not-stakes to bring back for the others (and me— she brought me a spear that I fancied).

I repeat: Smart girl, our Sunrise! Buffy stopped to give her a hug and a thumbs up— then turned and kicked the big metal door completely off of it's hinges (and it bounced sideways and destroyed the stereo).

"Party police," Buffy said into the sudden silence. "We've had a complaint of mass stupidity— so we're going to have to shut you down."

Something leaped at her, something blue-skinned and slick, six-limbed and fast —

— and it hit the ground… in two separate pieces from a single swipe of the Scythe.

I saw Whitey, chained to the wall on the far side of the room, some sixty feet away— through a crowd of monsters that I recognized only a very few of.

"One chance," Buffy said. "And only one; give us our man, and we'll let you all walk away until next time. Decide. Now."

A vampire near the back, not the woman Melissa, another one, roared, "KILL THEM!"— and it became a battle.

I used my wooden spear to stake the nearest vampire, poked the green-and-greasy-spider-thing behind it with the point, then spun-dropped-swept it with the length of the spear, smacking it hard enough to send it tumbling sideways, where it landed on its back, and kicked feebly and helplessly at the air, unable to right itself.

Another monster— this one humanoid, but with hands the size of hubcaps and claws as long as pencils— leapt at me, and I drove a sidekick into the thing's throat, sent it flying back into the werewolf-looking thing behind it, dumping both on the ground.

Buffy and Rose weren't killing, just chopping down, heading for the back of the room as fast as they could. I ran to catch up, felt Xander fall in to my left and a little behind, even as Vincent, at the front left of the second team, moved in a few feet behind me.

Buffy… god. Watching her move through the demons, Scythe making a red and silver web around her as she played food processor on the monsters around her… awesome. Better than a Jet Li fight scene, and not much fighting on Earth is better than that. And Rose! My Rose had gone into what she called "Captain Cuisinart mode," slashing viciously at anything that reached for her, kicking the bodies of the dead and wounded out of her way.

I glanced ahead, saw the woman vampire— brown hair long and kinky, body long, lean and athletic, in full vamp face, or she might have been pretty— trying to unfasten the chains that held Whitey to the wall. Looking at Whitey, I winced. He'd been tortured, badly so, by the look of him. Bruises all over, tiny cuts all over his bared chest and stomach, and orange, green or white stains near every cut. (I found out later that the white was salt, the orange Tabasco sauce, and the green was from green habanera sauce— each had been poured on his wounds. Sadistic _bitch!)_

A wave of monsters hit us then, a half a dozen eight-foot-tall things with lobster-like carapaces and blades that came out of the backs of their wrists, and I lost sight of things for a minute. Then I heard Vincent roar, from off to the side, and glanced that way. Melissa the Vampire Bitch had gone sideways towards an exit over there, carrying Whitey over her shoulder— and Vincent, Sara, Brianne, Giles and Chantelle had gone to stop them.

I hadn't see it happen, but Melissa had dumped Whitey on the floor, and Chantelle was kneeling next to him, trying to wake him, while Melissa's vampire goons attacked the group. Vincent had lost the axe he'd taken from Dawn's load somewhere, and was now fending off two vampires with his claws and a stake. Giles had a sword, and was fighting another one, while Sara and Brianne defended the group from all other comers. Melissa was trying to work her way around the edges of the group, get back to Whitey (it seems that Chantelle had kicked her away from him), but not having a lot of luck.

Then a sorcerer (human, with mystic tattoos over every inch of skin we could see) stepped out of the crowds of demons, and raised his hands in a gesture of attack, aiming at Buffy. Xander and I cried a warning at the same moment— just too late. The spell went off, and suddenly Buffy was floating in the air, arms and legs painfully extended, head bent back. She didn't scream— but she made a horrible, gurgling, hurt sound.

"Slayers," the sorcerer said. "So very overrated."

Then he burst into flame, started screaming— and Buffy dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. Xander was there in an instant, helping her up, handing her the Scythe, which she'd dropped.

"Okay, now that made me just a little bit cranky," Willow said from the doorway— where she floated a couple of feet in the air, arms crossed over her chest. "You don't get to attack my friends with Mayan pain magic, Mr. I'm-So-Cool-My-Tattoos-Have-Tattoos." Willow glanced back in the direction where Whitey lay, the group surrounding him fighting like mad, made a gesture, then turned back to the now-extinguished-still-smoldering sorcerer. "Buffy, can I have this one? Pretty please?"

"Knock yourself out," Buffy said, pushing hair out of her face and straightening. "And Wil— thanks."

"What are friends for?" Willow asked. She smiled at the sorcerer cheerfully. "So— how do you want to do this, Ink-boy? First blood? Surrender? Death?"

Buffy turned away— and the fighting, suspended for a moment, picked up, much more slowly than before. Many of the monsters were now trying to find a way out of the place, but Sh'rin and Dawn had the door, a magic circle of Sh'rin's defending it and them.

Then everything stopped, even Willow's magical duel— when Chantelle shrieked in pain.

"Okay," the vampire that had been Melissa Newhart said, holding Chantelle aloft by the neck with one hand, pressing a dagger to her belly with the other. "Everybody be still— or Mommy-Slayer, here, gets a little impromptu abortion."

We all froze.

"Better," Melissa said. "Much better. Now… what to do next? Hmm… I know!

"All you Slayers, all of you who came with them… drop your weapons. And you, red— shut down your spells. NOW!"

Metal and wood clanged and clattered as it hit the floor, and Melissa laughed wildly.

"Good, good," she said. "Okay… now I think I'll have you all line up, and auction off the right to kill you, one by one."

I saw movement behind her, looked more carefully— and saw Whitey's hand close around a stake.

"Come on, line up!" Melissa shouted. "You! Old man! You at one end, and you, Buffy Summers, you at the other! Move it, or I kill little Chantelle, here!"

Whitey stood up, and no one saw— they were all watching us.

He weaved in place, and I found myself amazed that he _could_ stand up. Bloody, battered, covered in dozens of still-bleeding wounds, he stood staring at Melissa from one side and behind as the vampire who'd once been the woman he intended to marry held Chantelle off the ground easily, choking her slightly, and holding a knife to her belly.

I could see the hurt on his face, the hurt of knowing what he had to do— and I felt sick, sorry and sad for him. But he did it. He had loved Melissa Newhart, been carrying the weight of her death for years, felt a terrible guilt over what had happened to her— but Chantelle was the center of his world, now, and Melissa was threatening her. The pain of the choice he faced left him looking half-mad— but he made it.

It wasn't the best kick I've ever seen, far more awkward than I'd ever seen Whitey perform in his life, but it did the job. His foot snapped up and out, caught Melissa in the elbow of the arm she held Chantelle with— and that elbow _broke_ (for a human to break a vampire's elbow, even when not hurt and exhausted, is _impressive_— doing it in the shape Whitey was in— amazing!), making Melissa drop Chantelle, who fell backwards, while Melissa spun to face Whitey, trying to knife him.

He blocked the knife, stepped into her, caught her around the waist— and jerked her into the stake that he held between them.

"I'm sorry," he said, barely audibly, just before she dusted. He watched the dust that had been her drift away, reeled on his feet, said, "God, I'm so _sorry!"_— and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Chantelle was beside him in a spilt second, Giles moving to treat him, Sara, Brianne and Vincent scooping their weapons and moving to defend them as the monsters started to recover their wits— and I caught a flash of movement from over by the exit.

Sunrise had a Frisbee in her hands, a Frisbee with great chunks cut out of it and symbols drawn on it, making it look like a magic circle. She flung it towards the group where Whitey lay, watched it, and as it passed over them, shouted _"Alahk antaray rikar!"_ (or something like that).

As she finished the words, the Frisbee glowed, changed, spread— and a circle of energy dropped down around Giles, Chantelle and Whitey. A half-second later, a snake-demon of some sort got past Vincent while he was dealing with a pair of vampires— and when it hit the edge of the circle, it was flung back a good ten feet, stunned and jittering.

Sh'rin laughed joyously, shouted, _"H'la tendel,_ Dawn! Magnificent!"

Then I had a demon of some sort— half komodo dragon, half hippopotamus, by the look of it— in my face, and I went back to work.

That thing was _tough_— and I wouldn't have been able to take it down, but Buffy shouted, "Elaine, catch!"

I didn't have to look— I felt it coming, spinning my way as she threw it to me, and I tossed my spear to Buffy as I reached out to catch the Scythe, felt a charge of energy and power slam through me as the leather-wrapped handle slapped into my right hand, spun it over that hand, caught the haft in my left, put my right hand on the secondary handle behind the blade, and slammed the edge across the demon's eyes.

The top half of its head came off, as easy as cutting the top off of a carrot.

I waded deeper into the pile, letting the power of the Scythe guide me to my next target, listening to it sing it's song of righteous fury, guiding it where I wanted it to go, working _with it,_ not just using it.

God that was a trip!

Then it was over.

Over four dozen monsters, demons, vampires (and a single sorcerer, whom Willow had reduced to a gibbering pile of stupid)— and we'd won!

I rushed to where the others were gathering around Giles and Chantelle, both still hovering over Whitey's unconscious form, and saw Sunrise make a gesture, mutter a word— and the lines of the circle of power around them went out.

"Dawn, that was great!" Willow enthused. "Using a Frisbee to get a magic circle where you want it— Dawnie, that was _brilliant!"_

"Thanks," Sunrise said, blushing. "I thought of it when Sh'rin was teaching me to instill items with power, thought it would work— nice to know it does."

"I had no idea you'd learned to do that!" Wil said. "Dawn, that's some major mojo— you're taking care, right?"

"I am," Dawn said. "Defensive magics only, Wil, and nothing that doesn't require a diagram and a spell. That's the first one I ever got totally right, unless we count a simple herb-drying spell.

"Willow… I am being careful, but… will you kind of keep an eye on me? Make sure I _stay_ careful? I mean— you've been there. You know what to watch for in ways I don't."

"Bet on it," Willow said. She hugged Dawn, then turned to Giles. "Giles, how's Whitey?"

"He'll be all right, I believe," Giles said, looking up at Willow. "He's lost a great deal of blood, and he's badly battered— but I think we can care for him at home.

"Will you get him to the SUV? More room to lay him out comfortably in there."

"Betcha," Willow said. Whitey floated up slowly, and Willow smiled at Chantelle, who still looked scared and upset. "Slow march, Chantelle— keep hold of his hand, it'll help him."

(I don't know if that was true— but I know for _certain_ that it helped Chantelle, and I think that's what Willow was aiming for.)

I started to hand the Scythe back to Buffy, and she shook her head. "Last user puts it away, Elaine. And hey— you did great!"

I grinned, blushed, took Rose's hand, and started for the exit.

At the van, while Willow, Giles and Chantelle were getting Whitey and Chantelle situated in the SUV, I used a couple of cloths that lay in the case to clean the Scythe, put it away, and shoved it back under the seat, bidding it a silent goodnight just before I closed the case, feel-hearing a little shrill from it that felt like it had said, "Well done, Slayer."

The ride back to Scooby Mansion went without trouble, and Willow floated Whitey in (Chantelle right beside him, holding his hand, every step of the way), while Rose and I watched something that, while we didn't get what it was for, was still very cool to see.

Sh'rin got out, walked a ways from the SUV (left in the drive so that Willow wouldn't have to maneuver Whitey around cars and such), and pulled a sheet of leather from her bag, all while Sunrise stood with us, as puzzled as we were. Sh'rin wrapped the leather around her arm several times, then held up her arm and made a sort of… well, a little hoot-screech noise.

A great big owl— a foot and a half high, at least— dropped out of a tree a ways across the yard, glided over to Sh'rin and landed on her arm, the leather protecting her from its talons. Sh'rin spoke to it softly for a moment in the language of her people (a Cheyenne dialect, Giles had determined), and the owl raised its left wing, shook it a bit… and a single feather slid partway out of its wing. Sh'rin pulled the feather gently free, said something else in her language, sounding respectful, nodded to the owl— and tossed her arm, giving it a boost into the air.

It flew over, circled Sunrise's head once, a couple of feet up, hooted loudly, and disappeared into the night.

"Um, what was that all about?" Sunrise asked as Sh'rin came over and took her hand, tugged her towards the house.

"You will soon see," Sh'rin said, smiling at her. "Small preparation to make, Dawn, then you will see."

We went inside, found people mostly sitting around the living room, only Giles, Chantelle, Willow and of course Whitey, missing. We sat off in one corner, the four of us, and Sh'rin unwrapped her arm, laid the leather out on the floor, and drew on it quickly with a charcoal stick, making a small circle before taking the feather the owl had given her, making several tiny notches in the shaft, and laying it in the circle.

Sh'rin sat erect and chanted for a moment— and the feather glowed briefly as the circle around it disappeared.

"Now it is forever," Sh'rin said. "To hurt or break this feather would take magic, Dawn. As mine are, this is." She touched the feathers in her hair, first the one on the right, then the two on her left. "Now, sit closer to me, please?"

"Never a problem," Sunrise said, and slid closer to Sh'rin, turning sideways when indicated, so that her left side was to Sh'rin. "But what's going on?"

"Something good," Sh'rin said. "I will tell you. Soon."

She reached out to Sunrise's hair, near the front, and separated out several strands, cut them with a small knife from her pouch, leaving them so that they hung just below the level of the top of Sunrise's ear. Then Sh'rin started braiding those strands, working with a surprising speed, given that she was working with such a small amount of hair. In only a few minutes, she had all of that strand from an inch away from the scalp to an inch from the bottom, pulled into a small, neat braid. Holding onto the base of the strand, to keep the tiny, sixteenth-of-an-inch wide braid from coming undone, Sh'rin moved to her knees, then said, "Stand, my love, slowly, please."

They stood, and everyone turned to look at them.

"All here but Kelly, Vivian and Kennedy saw Dawn in the battle tonight," Sh'rin said, her voice carrying easily. "She fought well— and she used the magic of the Guardians as it is meant to be used. She added defense to those with more urgent things on their minds, performed the spell perfectly in battle— and delivered it to where it needed to be in a way I have never even imagined, using a Frisbee-toy to send the Circle of Warding where it needed to go."

Sh'rin's fingers moved as she talked, braiding the brown-and-white feather from the owl neatly and tightly into Sunrise's hair.

"This was her first act as a Guardian… and must be marked with pride," Sh'rin continued. "So… as Walks-in-Fire did for me when first I used the magic so rightly, I give to you the first badge of the Guardians, Dawn Summers… wear it well, and with pride, for you have truly earned it."

Sh'rin kissed Sunrise briefly, then stepped back and looked at her with shining eyes.

Everyone in the room clapped for Sunrise as she stood there and blushed— and smiled, touching the feather that hung next to her jaw with a delicacy that showed her pride and delight.

Then Sh'rin kissed her for real— and the clapping actually got louder.


	41. Chapter 41

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 41 _Rose:_

Sunrise became an official Guardian— how freaking cool is that?

Elaine and I each kissed her after she and Sh'rin separated, just as hard and eager as Sh'rin had, and Sunrise packed some serious intensity into those kisses.

Then Buffy said from behind us, "If I can interrupt this little leftover moment from the Summer of Love, I'd really like to hug my sister, please?"

I started giggling, Sunrise and I separated, and I turned to Buffy, bowed her forward as I stepped back. She grinned, stepped forward and hugged Sunrise super-tight, said, "Dawn Summers, I am so proud of you that I may just have to have Xander widen the doors around this place so I can get my swollen head through them!"

"Thank you," Sunrise said, and smiled. "Buffy… I did it! I helped, and I did it the right way at the right time. And I held my own in the fight!"

"Like hell, you held your own," Buffy said. "Dawn, you did more than that— you did some serious damage! You've gotten really good with a sword, and I swear, you and Sh'rin are as natural a team as Rose and Elaine."

"You got that right, Buff," Xander said from behind her. "Now, quit hogging all the hugs, would you? I want to hug the Guardian Girl."

He hugged her, pulled back a little, grinned hugely, said, "I think the word I want is 'extraordinary,' Dawn. Nice to know I was right, even back then."

Sunrise hugged him hard, at that, and I found myself making a note to ask about that, later— obviously it was a good thing, so I wanted to hear more.

Willow and Giles came down while the hugging was still going on (all the but the new girls and Nancy, who were presumably asleep, hugged Sunrise, which she deserved), had reasons explained, and joined in.

"Whitey okay?" Sunrise asked, once Giles had hugged her.

"As well as can be expected, yes," Giles said. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but he'd lost a lot of blood. No internal injuries, thank heavens— Willow was able to determine that for me.

"Chantelle refuses to leave his bedside which, I suppose, may be among the best of possible medicines for him."

I saw Buffy and Xander exchange a worried look behind Giles's back, and thought, _Uh-oh, that's not good. Given that they knew about Sh'rin's Guardian name for Whitey, that's not good at all_.

Looking at Sh'rin, I knew I was right.

People started drifting off to bed, then, and soon it was me, Elaine, Sunrise, Sh'rin, Xander and Buffy left downstairs. Xander and Buffy exchanged a look, and Xander said, "Uh, ladies, could Buffy and I have a word with Sh'rin, please?"

"I think you should let us hear," I said. "Look, you guys obviously know a little more than you're letting on, and… we can keep a secret, too. We want to help."

"Rose has a point," Buffy said. "She and Elaine have earned their stripes. And Dawn's all Guardian Girl now, so she sure has a right to hear."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Xander said. "Okay… Sh'rin, you said something else when we were talking on the Fourth— and I think you really need to explain some more."

Sh'rin looked distraught, and her better English left for parts unknown when she answered.

"Xander, I would help— but it is to risk bad things, to tell too much," Sh'rin said. "Much badness— I can say only little without risk. Will you take what I say, not ask for more? Please? For sake of now-to-be?"

"Give us what you can, Sh'rin," Buffy said. "We'll make it be enough."

"Yes," Sh'rin said. "I tell some.

"Whitey is at… place where trail splits. Hurt, weary, sick in soul. His choice… out from his hands. Has no strength left inside, used all to do… thing unthinkable to him, to make more unthinkable not happen.

"To kill the demon with his once-love's face… to save his now-loved… this left him with no strength for self. He cannot choose trail. Is chosen for him now— but choice in many hands, not only one pair.

"Whitey… his name from Guardians no longer 'the Wounded.' For now, Whitey not have name to Guardians. Between paths, _n'hile-oh_.

"Name from Guardians can be one of two, from now. I tell you both— then I must say not more. Must! No more, you see? You… you take?"

"We'll take that, and we won't ask more," Buffy said. "Everyone?"

We all agreed, though we all wished for more, I could tell.

"From now," Sh'rin said slowly, "from _n'hile-oh_, Whitey can walk path of… of the… oh, words! Hate them!

"Not brave, not warrior as my people. Not soldier, not warrior of now. Warrior of between then and now— wore metal, used sword and shield? Knight! Yes. Knight like Arthur and others in Camelot.

"Whitey can be 'the Knight.' Live by own honor. Fight for things loved, cared for, good things. Stand brave, stand true.

"This is right trail. Good trail."

Sh'rin stood silently for a long moment, staring at the floor. When she lifted her face, her eyes were dark and sad.

"Wrong trail, bad trail… that trail taken for him, Whitey… his name among the Guardians be… be 'the Broken.'

"Now must be silent— and would be held to make less scared. Dawn, please… can we go to bed, now?"

"Of course," Dawn said. "Come on, honey. Goodnight, everyone."

"Wait," Sh'rin said. She looked at me and Elaine. "Would be less scared still with more loves. Will you come? Please?"

"Go to my room, guys," I said, kissing Elaine and giving her a tiny push towards Sunrise and Sh'rin. "Biggest bed. I need a second to talk to these guys."

The other three went up, giving me curious looks, and I turned to Buffy and Xander.

"Okay," I said. "This is nasty-bad shit. So I'm going to say one little thing, then zip my lip.

"The way you two have been exchanging little looks since Sh'rin started talking, I know that you know a little more— and I'm not going to ask you what that is. But… if I can help, if you _think_ I can help, will you promise to tell me?"

"Okay, we can do that," Buffy said, some of the tension draining from her face. "I promise, Rose."

"Yeah, me, too," Xander said. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "You know, we sure as hell lucked out when you and Elaine emailed Dawn, Rose. Lucked out big time."

"Let's hope that luck carries over to Whitey," I said, and hugged them both before going upstairs.

I felt no surprise at all when I discovered that a lot more than holding was going on in my bed, and I joined in with a will, remembering what mom had told me about Daddy always being crazy-horny after a fire. Well, we'd fought our own kind of fire tonight— and, despite worrying about Whitey (and by extension Chantelle), we all felt pretty damned sexy ourselves. Add in the delight of Sunrise taking a big step on her chosen path, and yeah… we made love until way too late before finally going to sleep.

In the morning, anybody with a pair of eyes (even if they didn't work— Bree knew, I could tell from her smile) could tell that Buffy and Xander had "done the deed," at last. They had that "new lovers" way of walking and talking, and when Willow said, "About time, guys," in an approving tone of voice, Xander just gave her a raised eyebrow.

Buffy, however, snickered and said, "Wait, _how_ long was it from the time you started dating Kennedy until you guys got off the starting blocks?"

"Yeah, but— that was different!" Wil protested.

"Yeah," Kennedy said. "She was worrying over nothing, not just taking her time to make sure things were as good as they seemed."

"Kennedy, whose side are you on?" Willow asked.

"Just telling the truth, honey," Kennedy said. "You know I'm right— you're blushing, that proves that you know I'm right."

Giles came in then, looking troubled, and the conversation got diverted.

"How's Whitey?" Sunrise asked.

"No change, I'm afraid," Giles said. "He's not woken, though his vital signs are… well, a little low, but acceptable."

"How's Chantelle?" Mom asked, moving away from the stove to kiss Giles (it being her turn to cook breakfast).

"She's exhausted," Giles said when they separated. "I was able to get her to promise to sleep only by telling her she could stay in Whitey's room to do so. I thought someone might take her something to eat first— I did make her promise to eat."

"Let me do it," I said, giving Mom a look. She got the look, which reminded her that Chantelle and I had been intimate, which might give me an edge in getting her to talk, and nodded. "Do hers first, Mom, I want her to get to sleep— sooner she eats, sooner she lays down."

Mom made Chantelle's breakfast— her favorite, even, though mom wasn't doing eggs for everyone else, and Chantelle loved scrambled eggs with cheddar, pepper jack, bacon and peppers in them more than any other breakfast. I love my Mom for a billion reasons— that made a billion and one, that extra effort.

I took it up, tapped, and went in when she called. Chantelle had pulled a chair up right next to Whitey's bed, and she sat there holding his hand and staring at him with a frightened expression. She looked drawn, pale… and somehow fragile.

I set her breakfast down on a little tray table, then set that in front of her— and stood there, waiting. After more than a minute, she gently disentangled her hand from Whitey's, and turned to her breakfast, after giving me a sweet, strained smile and a "Thank you."

"Eat it all, Chantelle," I said softly. "For the baby— and for Whitey. If he wakes up and you haven't been taking care of you and little nameless, he's gonna be pissed. It would be a shame to see that perfect little butt of yours all bruised…."

"Yeah, okay," she said, and reached for the salt shaker. " 'Nameless'— not entirely true."

"You've picked a name already?" I said. "Oh, can I hear it?"

"Surely you can," Chantelle said. "See… I had a grandma who I loved a lot, and she loved me the same way. I don't think I'd have made it to ten without her to take care of me— my mom, nothing like yours. Big old waste of flesh. But 'fore she died, Grandma was as much a mom to me as she could be. So… I'm gonna name my little girl partly for her, and partly… partly for another woman I done come to love, who moms me when I need it. If she don't mind, anyway— and you don't.

"I want to name my little girl Jocelyn Kelly."

I bent over and hugged Chantelle really hard, whispered, "I don't mind a bit, and I bet Mom won't, either— and I won't tell her. You should get to do that."

"Thanks," Chantelle said, and kissed my cheek. "For breakfast, and for lettin' me tell your mom."

"Not a problem," I said. "Chantelle… Whitey will be okay. We'll make him okay, if he needs us to help."

"Thank you," she said, and squeezed my hand.

I left her there, eating slowly and methodically— and watching the rise and fall of Whitey's chest.

When Whitey hadn't woken by dinner, Giles put him on an IV to keep him from dehydrating— and Chantelle wept for most of an hour, scared out of her mind.

When he hadn't woken by morning, Buffy looked at Willow and said, "Wil… that thing you did when Glory got Dawn, the coming-into-my-head thing… can you do that for Whitey?"

"I can try," Willow said. "But… Buffy, I was able to help you mostly because we're as close as we are. I like Whitey, he's my friend— but I don't know if we're close enough for me to help him like I did you."

"Try, please," Buffy said. "It's all we've got right now."

Willow went up to Whitey's room, and came back down an hour later, looking shaky and scared. As soon as Kennedy went to her and hugged her, Willow burst into tears— and we _all_ got scared.

It took several minutes to get her calm enough to tell us what was wrong— and then I don't think…. Look, we heard her, we understood what she was saying— but we didn't _get it_— not like she had. Maybe we couldn't, without seeing it for ourselves— and maybe that's a good thing.

"He's living it over and over," Willow said. "Killing the vampire-Melissa, I mean. No one around but her and Chantelle and him, and he gets up off of the floor, kicks Melissa-vamp, she drops Chantelle, he stakes her— but she stabs Chantelle first, and Chantelle dies in h-his arms, and it starts all over again, and every time it does— every time there's less _Whitey_ there.

"I'm no psychiatrist, but— but I think he's convinced himself that if he loves Chantelle, she'll die, too. And… I don't know what to do to get him out of that, to make him see he's wrong."

"Dammit," Giles said, pacing the floor. "This… this is outside of the realm of what we can deal with, plainly, it-it's going to take a professional. But this— this is not something we can explain to just any psychiatrist, and Diane… she's out of the country, helping a girl that Andrew and his girls managed to save from a vampire, but not before… yes, well.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to turn this over to the standard medical authorities. I see no alternative."

"I do."

Chantelle had come down behind Willow, so quietly that none of us had noticed her.

"I can help him." She stood there at the bottom of the stairs, looking small and delicate— and as resolutely determined as I've ever seen anyone look. "You won't like how, Giles— but I can help him."

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

"I can drag him out of there," Chantelle said. "If Willow can get me in there, I can drag him back out to the real world."

"Honey, it's not that easy," Willow said. "I'm sorry, but it's just not. You might be able to get him out, but I don't think you can keep him out— he's hurt so badly that he's… he can't stop seeing that honey, and it's so powerful that I'm afraid it would just pull him back in."

"I thought about that already," Chantelle said. She approached us, stopped in front of Giles. "I can make him stay. I can make him see that it's not like that, that… that he needs to be out here. I can give him what he needs to hold on to."

Giles looked at her for a moment, puzzled— then he got it.

"Chantelle… I don't think that's—" he started.

"Giles… it's the only way I know to make him stay," Chantelle said. "If you don't let me do this, he could die."

"No, I'm sure he won't die," Giles said. "I'm sure he'll be all right, Chantelle, we just need to find—"

"You need to find him an anchor," Chantelle said. "I can be that. I can anchor him. I can be his reason to go on. He just needs to know… to know that it's real. That what I feel is real, an' that it's forever."

"Chantelle, you're only sixteen, and—" Giles said.

"I'm old enough to have a baby," Chantelle said. "I'm old enough to admit that… that while I don't think the baby is a mistake, I do know that the father was. That I shoulda waited, waited until Whitey could see past my age, or I was old enough that it didn't matter no more.

"Giles… I won't do it without your blessing, I owe you too much, I… I respect you too much.

"But I'm going to tell you that if I can't make him well the only way I know how, that if you don't let me at least try….

"If I can't help him, Whitey may live— but he won't be the same. He'll be… be _broken_."

At that word, that "broken," Buffy made a little gasp, Xander clenched his fists, Sh'rin went pale (not easy, with her skin), Sunrise stood and started pacing, Elaine made a sound like she'd lost all her wind, and I shuddered.

"Chantelle, this isn't just— I'm not saying you shouldn't because of the law, I hope you know that," Giles said. "There are a great many reasons why this is a bad idea. I don't think—"

"I know you ain't tryin' to hurt me," Chantelle said. "I know you ain't tryin' to hurt Whitey, either, Giles.

"I know you think you're doin' the right thing, even.

"But I think you're wrong— and I hope you can see your way to lettin' me help the man I love out of this hell he's stuck in.

"I'll be upstairs. Let me know if you change your mind."

We all sat mutely and watched her go up the stairs, moving like she was twice Giles's age. When she vanished from sight, he dropped into a chair, took his glasses off and tossed them on the table in front of him.

"Bloody _hell,"_ he muttered. He sat up straight, looked around at all of us. "I can't let her do this. It isn't about the law, or about my own beliefs. It's just… it's not— dammit, I can't let her! She's half his age, and it's— it's not— she's my responsibility. I can't just let her…."

"Make love to a man who loves her back?" Mom asked. "Rupert, I think her age _is_ the problem you're having. And I… I understand that, I do. But I disagree."

"All right," Giles said. "I'll listen."

"She's no child," Mom said. "She's young, yes— but she's a young _woman_. Not a young girl."

"She's only just turned sixteen!" Giles said in protest.

That made me sit up straight and glare at him. "Okay, wait a second, here," I said, standing up. "Let me see if I have this straight, Giles; sixteen is too young to make a choice about loving someone, expressing that love physically… but _fourteen_ isn't too young to ask someone to make choices that could get people killed? Like you asked me to make the day we went to the candy factory, me and seven other people?"

"Rose, it's not that— it-it's just that…." Giles trailed off, looked miserable. "Dammit, if he were only twenty, that would be one thing, but he's thirty, he's nearly twice her age."

"Excuse me!" Buffy said slowly. "I know you did _not_ just go there, Giles! No way are you such a hypocrite that you went there!"

"I don't see how it's being hypocritical to—"

"You never said the first word about his age when I was dating Angel!" Buffy said. "About him being a vampire, about me being the Slayer, sure! But you never said a word about me dating someone _two hundred and thirty years older than me!_

"And now you're going to get all freaky over fourteen years? Pardon me, Giles, but what the fuck!"

"I love three women, actively," Dawn said. "I may love more, may add a man to that mix… and you accept that."

"And not to get all 'do as you say, not as you do,' here, Giles," Xander said. "But, uh… you were what, thirty-nine when Miss Calendar died? And she was twenty-seven?

"Yeah, that's twelve years difference. Not a lot less than the difference between Chantelle and Whitey."

"I was thirteen when I first earned the feather of a Guardian," Sh'rin said. "I had not even earned my own name, not then. But when I did this, Walks-in-Fire helped me express my joy by making love with me— and she was thirty-five winters, then."

"Giles, Chantelle has decided to risk her life to help others," Mom said, her voice very gentle. "She _has_ risked her life that way.

"So don't you think she should be allowed to _live_ her life?"

"I'm her guardian," Giles said softly. "Perhaps the documents are false, but so is her name. She is still Chantelle… and I am still her guardian."

"Giles," Elaine said softly, "Giles, it's good that you take this seriously, it is— no matter what you decide, I won't be mad. But… Giles, two things you need to think about.

"First… love doesn't ask for ID. I said that to Rose, once, and I meant it. It doesn't care how old you are, or how old they are, and sometimes it forgets to check who is or how many are male or female. It's love— and we don't decide who we love, _or who anyone else gets to love_.

"And second… Judas goat, Giles, you're her freaking guardian! So if he decides he wants to marry her, they don't have to wait until she's eighteen, because _you can give her permission to do it now!"_

Giles stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"I… I should like a few minutes to think, please," he said. "I'll be back… shortly."

He got up and went to the French doors, walked outside, and disappeared from view.


	42. Chapter 42

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 42

_Interlude:_

_My god, what do I do?_ Giles thought as he wandered around the outside of the place that even he had come to think of as Scooby Mansion. _How do I reconcile what I believe with what I know?_

_How do I choose the right thing when each right thing is also wrong?_

He had no answers. The others had made good points, valid points— but this wasn't just about logic, or emotional appeals— it was both, and that… that made it messy.

Whitey… Whitelaw Penobscot was his friend. A good friend, the kind he'd not had many of since he was young. Someone he could treat as an equal, someone he could love as a friend, perhaps as a brother. A man with a sense of honor… perhaps too strong a sense of honor, even. Still, better too strong than too weak. To take more responsibility than was good for you was far better than taking less responsibility than was good for others.

And the man was a born Watcher. He loved each of his charges, would die to protect them— but he didn't smother them. He taught them, and when they were ready, he let them fight for themselves.

Now, he lay upstairs, trapped in his own mind, caught between love of two women, and the horrible thing he'd had to do when one tried to kill the other.

Giles sighed, shook his head, walked on.

There were rules. There had to be rules. Yes, he'd broken many of those rules, made choices that refuted those rules— but only when choosing so was the right thing. You couldn't just blindly follow the rules, not any more than you could blindly ignore them.

But which mattered now? Rules? Love?

Life?

Willow was wise beyond her years— and she thought Whitey was losing his battle, losing his sense of self.

Whitey could die. Or be broken. Would a Whitey who had no conviction, no drive, no… no _hope,_ would he still be Whitey?

No. Whitey was conviction, was drive, was… hope.

He had turned his loss of one woman he loved towards something positive. He had thrown himself into a battle that should, by all rights, have gotten him killed. He'd thrown away a promising career to do the job he felt he had to do.

Whitey's convictions had driven him to hope that he could make a difference for the better.

Whitelaw Penobscot had made doing the right thing his life.

Something he had heard the night before came back to him then— and Rupert Giles made one of the hardest choices he'd ever made in his life.

Once the choice was made, he stopped thinking about it. He didn't second-guess himself, just went in the front door of the mansion, walked into the living room, and looked around at these people, people who had told him what they thought— then left him alone to decide, trusted him.

"Willow, can you get Chantelle into Whitey's mind, as she asked?" Giles asked.

Everyone whooped, even as Willow nodded.

"Rupert," Kelly said softly, coming over to hug him, "this is the right choice. There are times when it wouldn't be— but this time, it's the right thing."

"I hope you're right," he said. He looked around at all of them, said, "Each of you made very good points before I went to think. I hope that Chantelle and Whitey know— or will come to know— how much you care about them."

"What decided you, Giles?" Willow asked. "Can you tell us?"

"As I said, each of you who spoke made very good points," Giles said. "But… in the end, it was something that Sh'rin said last night that helped me decide.

"She said, 'Life first, rules later,' and she was right.

"Now… Willow, I should like to tell Chantelle myself. Will you wait outside Whitey's room until I come out?"

"Betcha," Willow said. "Let's go."

Kelly stopped Giles, kissed him, then let him go up.

Giles went into Whitey's room, found Chantelle sitting where she'd been virtually every time he'd looked in on them, in a chair next to Whitey's bed, holding his right hand in both of hers, staring at him as though she were trying to will him to wake up— which, he knew, was exactly the truth.

"Chantelle," Giles said softly.

She turned to look at him, her face carefully expressionless.

"Chantelle… I'm sorry for how I've treated you," Giles said. "I looked at you and I forgot to see a young woman. I let… I let my guardianship of you— perhaps not legal, but something that you accepted— I let it push me into seeing you as a girl. Not the young woman I should have seen, the young woman who— who accepts responsibility for her actions, admits her mistakes— and takes the consequences.

"The others… they worked very hard to make me see the error of my thinking, Chantelle, and it worked. I see you now for what you are.

"You are a young woman, strong, responsible… and very much in love.

"Whitey… he is my friend. I cannot let him be broken. I cannot let one of my Slayers be hurt. So… I will try very hard to stop thinking like an old man, and I will let you do what you must, to try and save the man that you love— and my friend."

All the warning that Giles got was the scrape of chair leg on carpet— but it was enough to let him steady himself before the blond-haired missile impacted on his chest, arms going around his waist and squeezing tightly— but not too tightly, even in her relief, Chantelle was careful not to hurt him.

"Don't you ever call yourself an old man again, Rupert Giles," Chantelle scolded, "or I swear, I'll kick your butt around the room."

"I shall endeavor to remember that," Giles said against her hair. "Chantelle… I cannot lie to you. This is… not easy for me, still. There is a solution that will relieve the tension I feel, but—"

"This one time," Chantelle said. "This once, I'll love him, and then I won't touch him until I'm seventeen, Giles, that's the age of consent in Illinois, I looked it up, and—"

"Hush," Giles said, and she did, looked up at him, surprised by the very gentleness of his tone. "That is not the solution, Chantelle. Not for either of you. To ask you to share this once and only once… I can't do that to you. I saw what that sort of… of forced self-restraint did to Buffy. Admittedly, the circumstances were very different, but… no. That isn't what I need to stop worrying about this."

"Then what is?" Chantelle asked. "I'll do it if I can, Giles, you got to know that."

"I do know that," Giles said. "And I'm confident that you'll be able to do as I ask, Chantelle, because all I ask is this; be happy."

She stared up at him, saw that he meant exactly what he said, and gave him a slow, sweet smile.

"Giles… is it… I don't think there's any laws 'bout it, so is it _okay,_ I guess, for a baby to have two godfathers?" Chantelle asked. " 'Cause I got to tell you… I want you to be my little girl's godfather, too.

"Nothin' but the best for her, and you… well. You and Whitey, it don't get no better."

"Don't be silly," Giles said. "I shall be honored to have such a position— but Chantelle, I fully expect to be the baby's only godfather.

"I'm quite sure that Whitey will adopt her."

Chantelle hugged him again, a little more tightly, and Giles hugged back.

After a long moment, he gently disengaged from Chantelle, and said, "I think that the longer we wait, the harder this will be. You may have to work very hard to get past his pain— I'd not make it harder on either of you by delaying. So… I shall send Willow in."

"Before you go," Chantelle said, "could you get that IV out of Whitey? It might… get pulled out later, if you don't."

Giles blushed a little, and removed the IV that was keeping Whitey hydrated from his arm, taped a cotton ball over the spot where it had been.

"Chantelle," Giles said as he stood up, "do remember that he's been injured, and doesn't heal like you and the other Slayers do."

"I know," she said softly. "Giles… thank you. For giving me Whitey's life to save, thank you."

"You're quite welcome," he said, and squeezed her shoulder before leaving the room.

Willow stopped him in the hall, kissed his cheek before she went into the room herself.

Giles went downstairs to see who was making lunch.

Willow entered the room, hugged Chantelle and said, "Okay… you sure you know what you're getting into, sweetie?"

"I know," Chantelle said. "I know you're Whitey's friend, Wil— sure as you are mine— but he's my best friend, an' I'm his. There's things I know about him you ain't never likely to know, just like there's things 'bout Buffy an' Xander that you know an' I never will.

"An' right now, I know what I need to do to kick his stupid ass out of this damn trap he built for himself. I know how to make him listen to me— an' that'll be enough to get him out here in the real world. Once that's done… love will make him stay."

"Okay, then," Willow said. "Anything you need to do to, you know, get ready?"

"Couple things," Chantelle said. "Not for the goin' into his head, for the after. You might wanna look away for a second— not like you got to, but you might want to."

With that, Chantelle threw the sheet off of Whitey, and started stripping his pajama pants and underwear— all that he had on— off of him. Willow did look away, until Chantelle said, "Okay, the man's decent again."

She looked back, found Whitey covered by the sheet— and Chantelle stripping. She thought about looking away, but didn't— Kennedy wouldn't.

Chantelle was gorgeous. Lean, just muscular enough to make a person notice the tone and definition of her muscles, with B-cup breasts that could only be described as "perky," capped with light pink nipples that looked to be rock-hard. Her pale blond hair, straight and long, she swept back over her shoulders after losing her T-shirt. Her waist was small, her belly flat (but was that a tiny bit of bulge there, or wishful thinking?), her hips small but well-rounded, giving her a delightfully shaped butt. Her pubic hair was a shade darker than that on her head, curly, not too thick.

"You're a hottie," Willow admitted. "Don't see how he could say no to you."

"That's the plan, Willow," Chantelle said. "I read somethin' once— don't remember what it was it was in— about how it's awful damned difficult to argue with a naked woman, and still more difficult if you're naked yourself. Figured this might save some argument."

She slid into the bed beside Whitey, pressed herself against his side, then looked at Willow.

"What do I gotta do?"

"Give me your hand, sweetie," Willow said, moving to sit in the chair where Chantelle had sat for so much of the last couple of days. Chantelle laced her fingers through Willow's, and the witch said, "Now, once we're inside, I'll try to stay out of your way— but I'm going to have to stay in there until you wake him up, just to be sure nothing happens to you. I'll leave as soon as you do that, let you have your privacy."

"Thank you," Chantelle said softly. "For everything, Willow. Thank you."

"Never a problem," Willow said. "Okay… here we go."

Just like that, they were… somewhere else.

Everything was black, except for one small, spotlight-lit area directly ahead of them. There, in the harsh white light of a halogen light, Chantelle saw Whitey, Melissa and herself. Melissa had just dropped her, only the dream-Chantelle hadn't fallen on her butt, but landed neatly on her feet. As she turned, jerked around by Whitey, Melissa jabbed the knife she held into Chantelle's chest, then got pulled against Whitey— and staked.

The dream-vampire dusted, and Whitey dropped to his knees beside dream-Chantelle, gathered her up in his arms, shouting her name, _screaming_ her name.

"I… Whitey?" dream-Chantelle said in a bubbly voice. "You're… okay?"

"Hush, hush, we'll get you help!" Whitey said. "You'll be okay, we'll— Giles! Willow! Help! She's dying!"

"I love you, Whitey," dream-Chantelle said— and went limp in his arms, blood pouring from her mouth.

Whitey screamed, a loud, long, agonized thing— and suddenly, he was on the floor, the dream-Melissa standing, holding dream-Chantelle out at arm's length— and it played out all over again.

"Jesus Christ and the cows got out!" Chantelle muttered in a shaky voice. She looked down at herself surprised to see that, in here, she was wearing the same clothes as dream-Chantelle, the same clothes she'd had on when the real thing had happened. "No wonder you looked so wrecked when you came out of this, Willow."

"I kept trying to stop it, to change it," Willow said. "But I couldn't even get into the light, or get a spell effect into the light."

"Stupid, stubborn man," Chantelle sighed, in a voice that spoke of no real anger, only love. "Stupid, stubborn, lovable man.

"Okay, Wil— wish me luck. I think I see how to change this, how to wake him up. Hope I'm right."

"Good luck," Willow said, and kissed Chantelle's cheek.

Chantelle Rostov took a deep breath, stepped forward, stopped at the edge of the light, and waited for the dream-play to get to the right point— then moved, using all of her Guardian-given Slayer power.

Dream-Melissa's arm broke as Whitey kicked her, she dropped dream-Chantelle— and the real Chantelle stepped in, feeling only the tiniest tug of resistance from the edge of the light that had kept Willow from changing the events. Real-Chantelle swept dream-Chantelle back out of the circle with one arm, took her place neatly.

The knife came at her chest, and Chantelle blocked hard, her forearm slamming into dream-Melissa's with enough force to smack her arm, her hand and the knife she held back away from Chantelle. Whitey pulled dream-Melissa into the stake he held, she dusted— and he turned, starting to drop to his knees, expecting to find Chantelle down on the ground, bleeding and dying.

Instead, he found her standing before him, well, healthy, smiling… alive.

"There you go, savin' me again," Chantelle said softly. "Sugar, you could give a girl a complex— but I don't mind."

She kissed him, hard, urgent, eager, while he stood staring in disbelief at this blatant denial of what he'd convinced himself had happened— or would.

"Chantelle," he breathed when they parted. "You… I— I didn't screw it up?"

"Whitelaw Penobscot, you didn't screw up savin' me— you never have, you been doin' it since the day we met," Chantelle said. "Only thing you did screw up was scarin' me half to death by trickin' yourself into thinkin' you ever failed me— or ever could."

"I— what do you mean I've been saving you since the day we met?" Whitey asked, frowning. "All I did that day was—"

"Was _care,"_ Chantelle said. "Whitey, before I met you, I didn't have a whole lot of people what cared about me. Not adults, not since my grandma died, anyway.

"But you came along, and you stopped me from goin' after Jenny Borklund, you made me see that I was bein' dumb and egotistical, an' you didn't do it by bullyin' me, or talkin' down to me. You did it by carin' 'bout me.

"And let's face facts, that cow woulda stomped my ass into the ground."

"Well, back then, yes," Whitey said. "But now… no."

"No, not no more," Chantelle agreed. "But Whitey… you saved me. You spent a little more than the last two years savin' me, one time after the other, savin' me from myself, from the kids I was runnin' with, from the cops, even.

"You cared. I saw that, I saw that you really cared, an' I guess… I guess that's when I fell in love with you.

"I love you, Whitey. An' I need you to stop this stupid scarin' yourself, and wake your ass up, okay?

"Wake up, Whitey. Please.

"Come back to me."

The blackness spun, and shifted—

— and Willow was sitting beside the bed, looking at Chantelle as she gently took her hand out of Willow's, turned to Whitey, and kissed him as he woke.

"You listen to me," Chantelle said, most of a minute later, when they finally stopped kissing. "You listen, an' you listen _good,_ Whitelaw Penobscot.

"I know you're scared you'll hurt me. I know you're scared you'll let me down. But the only way you're going to hurt me or let me down is by lettin' a bunch of bad shit that you could not ever have seen comin', let alone stopped, make you run away from me, from what I feel for you, and from what we could have together.

"I love you, Whitey— more'n I knew I could, I love you. And after what I just saw, I know that you love me.

"So prove it. Prove that you love me, that you believe I love you.

"Don't run away from me. Don't run away from _us_."

"I love you," Whitey said. "I won't run."

Chantelle kissed him— and Willow stood up and slipped from the room, leaving them to their love.

She went downstairs, gliding, almost dancing, knowing that he wouldn't retreat again, knowing that Chantelle would anchor him in the real world by loving him.

She stepped into the living room, found everyone still sitting there, waiting tensely.

"He's awake," Willow said, and grinned. "But I don't think they'll be down for a while."

Most of them cheered, and Willow saw that even though he didn't cheer… Giles looked happy and relieved.

Almost two hours later, Chantelle lifted her mouth from Whitey's and looked up at him.

"Been wantin' to do this for a long damn time, Whitey," Chantelle said softly. "Makin' love with you…? Worth everything I had to go through to get here. I ain't a bit sorry about it."

"I'm not sorry, either," Whitey said. "Chantelle… you know that if Giles objects, we'll have to stop this for a while, maybe a long while."

"Not going to happen," Chantelle said. "He's… I don't know if he's totally okay with this, Whitey, but he's acceptin' it. I offered to stop after this once, an' he said a pretty flat no. So… I'm yours, buster. For-damned-ever."

They kissed again, and she snuggled up to his side. After a moment, she said, "I'll give up girls, Whitey. I'm yours. So I'll give up girls."

"No, you really won't," Whitey said. "Honey, I am very flattered that you'd offer— but I came back to make you happy— not to cut you off from something that makes you happy."

"Oh, you are somethin' else," Chantelle said. "So… what do you think about maybe havin' something like what Dawn, Sh'rin an' the Chosen Couple have goin'? Only… well, you, me… and some girl we both love. Would that be somethin' you could do?"

"I don't know," Whitey said. "I'll need to think about that. But… well, Chantelle, if we do end up that way, I hope you'll understand… the other girl needs to be eighteen. Or I'll need to wait until she is to make love with her.

"You… well. You brought me back. Showed me that I'm not… that I didn't fail. So for you, I can overcome the cop that still lives in my head. But… let's not push that, okay?

"For right now, if you want to spend some time with a girl, or even more than one, you do it— and if I think you aren't doing it when you want to, and so does or do the aforementioned girl or girls, then I will paddle your butt."

"I might like that," Chantelle said. "Never know."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did, you crazy little sex-monkey," Whitey said with a sigh. "But that's not the point.

"The point is, you be happy— and you don't feel guilty about it."

"I'll try, how's that?" Chantelle said. "I mean— we ain't havin' to work out ever'thing right this minute."

"Good point," Whitey said. "Hey… I'm hungry."

"Shower and food," Chantelle said. "And lettin' ever'body know you're okay, that's in there, too."

They showered, dressed— he was shocked when she padded naked to her room to get clean clothes, came back carrying them, but only a little— and then, before they went downstairs, he stopped her.

"One more thing before we go down, Chantelle," he said. "There's something I want to ask you…."


	43. Chapter 43

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 43 _Elaine:_

Whitey and Chantelle came into the dining room just before we started cleaning up from a slightly late lunch, holding hands and both _glowing_.

"Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes," Rose said, and got up to hug him. "Dammit, Whitey, don't scare me like that— you think I want to teach all the martial arts classes by myself!"

He laughed, hugged back— and got swamped by hugs. Everyone hugged him, even Giles, which surprised and pleased Whitey.

"Listen, everyone," Whitey said before he sat down. "I can't thank you enough for coming to get me out of that pl—"

"Then stop trying," Buffy said. "Whitey, you don't have to thank us— you don't leave your family in trouble like that, and you are family."

"Hush, you," Whitey said. "While your point is both valid and appreciated, a gentleman says thank you.

"So… thank you. All of you. When the time comes when you need me… I'll be as close to the front line as the Slayer-in-command will let me be."

He and Chantelle sat and ate, and we let them, talking amongst ourselves, half-watching the two of them sit there and glow together.

After they'd eaten, Whitey sat back and said, "Okay… better. Still sore, but not sore and hungry. Better."

"No active teaching for you until Friday," Giles said. "You've some serious cuts— give them a rest. You can teach, but no new techniques— just review and correction."

"Yes, sir," Whitey said. "Giles… there's something I need to ask you."

"Of course, ask away," Giles said.

"Legally— or at least as far as legal records go— you're Chantelle's guardian," Whitey said. "Her father, or as near as she's got.

"So… I need to ask you for permission to marry your daughter, sir. As soon as it's convenient."

"Oh, bloody hell," Giles said, sounding both aggrieved and amused. "Yes, of course you may marry her— but couldn't you have waited a day to ask?"

"Huh?" Whitey said, torn between happy and confused.

Giles dug his wallet out, pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to a grinning Xander.

"Xander bet me that you'd ask before bedtime," Giles said with a sigh.

Everyone laughed— and Chantelle kissed the hell out of Whitey, then hugged Giles hard.

"Now," Giles said, once things had calmed down a little, "I do have a couple of requests to make regarding the wedding."

"All right," Whitey said, and Chantelle, sitting on his lap, nodded eagerly, her eyes almost glowing.

"First, I think we should hold it here," Giles said. "There's more than enough space, and if we do this as soon as you'd like, the weather will be more than warm enough to hold the ceremony outside."

"Yes!" Chantelle said immediately. "Please, Whitey?"

"Absolutely," he said. "Next request, sir?"

"I don't care whether you have a religious ceremony or a more civil-approach ceremony," Giles said, "but I would very much appreciate it if you did allow for the tradition of the official performing the ceremony asking who is giving the bride away— it's a privilege I should like to have."

That got him hugged again.

Then Chantelle said, "Um, while we're talkin' about weddings and traditions… Kelly? I got somethin' I'd like to ask you."

"Sure, sweetheart," Kelly said— and I felt Rose shift under the arm I had around her waist, looked down to see her grinning.

"Well… see, I been thinkin' on names for my little girl, and I settled on one I like," Chantelle said. "My Grandma, she died when I was ten. 'Fore then, she was way more a mom to me than my mom ever was, an' I'm gonna name my little girl for her, at least partly.

"But… there's somebody else that's been bein' a mom when I need one, an' I'd be tickled pink if you'd be okay with me namin' my little girl 'Jocelyn Kelly.' More than tickled, even."

Kelly stared at Chantelle for a long moment, then pulled her into a super-Mom hug, just as the tears in her eyes overflowed.

"I'm so far past just okay with that, Chantelle," Kelly said. "I'm well past flattered, even, and into honored and delighted."

Whitey was not about to be outdone. He waited until Chantelle and Kelly had separated and wiped their eyes, and Chantelle had come back to sit next to him, then said, "Jocelyn Kelly Penobscot— it's a good name. The rhythm works, don't y— mmm…."

Chantelle shushed him by kissing him, and it was one of _those_ kisses. You know, the kind where people start expecting clothes to go flying? And this being Chantelle, I was _way_ more than half-expecting it.

"You mean it," Chantelle said they broke the kiss, not asking, just stating her delight. "You mean it, and I love you for it."

"My wife," Whitey said softly. "Thus, my child."

"Damn straight," she said. She kissed him again, then said, "So you're gonna adopt her?"

"Actually, I was thinking of an easier way, honey," Whitey said. "Just put my name down as the father on the birth certificate, and in the eyes of the law, it's a fact— at least until someone challenges it, and I don't see Jerome Bidner doing that at any point in his life."

"Mister, if you're tryin' to get me to see if I can't get you back into bed, it's gonna work," Chantelle said.

"Later, honey," he said. "For now… Giles, how fast do you think that sixteen slayers, the most powerful witch on Earth, four watchers— I'm counting you, Xander, deal— two Guardians— I'm counting you, Dawn, you also deal—"

"No, you are right," Sh'rin said, and touched the feather in Sunrise's hair. "The night you were taken, Dawn earned this— the first badge of a Guardian. Sadly, you were unconscious, and did not get to see."

"I agree, I wish I'd seen," Whitey said. "Now— where was I? Oh! Right. Sixteen Slayers, world's most powerful witch, four Watchers, two Guardians, one young lady who hasn't decided whether to be a Watcher or a Guardian yet, may opt for both— yes, I mean you Laurie, don't look at me like that, we all know you'll do one or the other— the world's first super-soldier-turned-Slayer-combat-support-specialist and one English teacher turned house-mother.

"How fast do you think a group like that can plan, mount, and execute Operation: Wedding Day?"

Chantelle squealed in delight, and the rest of us cheered.

"Funny you should ask that," I said. "Somehow or another, I ended up on the county clerk's page while web-surfing a while ago, and I guess I must have accidentally sort of downloaded the requirements.

"If there's enough documentation with the fake ID you got Chantelle, and if she can find a wedding dress that she loves either off-the-rack or that can be altered without a lot of work…." I grinned. "And if you're willing to go with, you know, nice looking but not engraved invitations, and we can get Vi and the Cleveland gang— and hey, it's a Slayer wedding, we could invite all of them, even Andrew's group!— well, I think… we could have you married by next Sunday, if all the overseas girls can get here that fast."

People stared, so I grinned and said, "Hey, no blood test, no waiting period— with Giles right there in your corner, cooperating, it can happen in no time."

We settled on having the marriage on Wednesday of the coming week, giving us eight days to get things set, and on just announcing to the overseas Slayers and Andrew, and inviting the rest.

Dinner became an engagement party, that night— and an extra celebration to boot, because Chelsea, little _myasthenia gravis_ victim Chelsea, walked in with just a cane! No walker! She spent several long minutes hugging Willow and Whitey, crediting them and their work with her for getting her that far that fast.

Nifty night all around.

Sunrise and I made the invitations, printed them on cardstock, and we sent those that went to Cleveland by same-day messenger service Wednesday morning, mailed those for Kimber, Brian, Camden Archer and Sensei Yashida (the only non-Team-Slayer invitees) normally. At four-thirty that afternoon, Robin Wood called, spoke to Giles, and said they'd all be there.

"And apparently, Faith even promised to wear a dress," Giles said, sounding amazed.

Vi, who we'd had to email, not even being sure where she was, called that night after supper, said she was on her way.

Kelly took Chantelle shopping for a wedding dress— and they came home the same day with one that a) Chantelle absolutely loved, b) needed no alterations that Kelly couldn't do herself and c) made Chantelle look absolutely _stunning_.

Whitey and Giles found a retired judge who was willing to perform the ceremony, and on short notice. The men started getting tuxes, we girls were taken out in groups to buy dresses for the wedding.

Whitey… first he bought Chantelle an engagement ring, a gold band with a reasonable sized diamond (reasonable as in it didn't get in the way of her doing ordinary things while wearing it, but was big enough to draw the eye), then they went and picked out their wedding bands together.

They opted to go with a small wedding party, best man and maid of honor only. Vincent got the best man slot, Willow the maid of honor slot. Xander didn't mind not getting the job, and neither did any of us girls.

Giles and Xander plotted… something. No one seemed sure what, they were too careful— but something.

The rest of us started working on wedding decorations and gifts.

Things were hectic, and we were pressed for time— but the Scooby Gang pulled through. Everything was ready by the appointed hour on Wednesday, July thirtieth of 2003. The weather was only warm, not hot, so the guys weren't going to melt in their tuxes, what with the shade trees and the open pavilion that had been rented for the reception.

I cried like a baby at the wedding. Chantelle looked gorgeous, Whitey tempted even my barely-bisexual self (I know, I've said I'm gay— but any female who can hug Vincent Chandler and stay _completely_ gay is probably Sappho reincarnated) and it was just… perfect.

At the end of the ceremony-slash-beginning-of-the-reception… look, Chantelle's a Slayer, and one with an unusually high degree of accuracy with thrown objects, and, like all of us, she has this incredible spatial sense— plus, her memory for the locations of things is awesome. And Whitey… he's pretty good on the memory and spatial sense thing, and accurate enough, if not Chantelle-level accurate. So backs turned and all, I'm just not buying that it was an accident that the bridal bouquet landed practically in Vivian's hands, and the garter, when Whitey threw it, just happened to land practically on top of Vincent's head.

Dancing, dinner, presents… wonderful, wonderful evening. When the limousine showed up to take them to the airport for their honeymoon, and Giles handed them the plane tickets to New York City, along with reservation slips for a fourteen night "Honeymoon Package" at the Ritz-Carlton New York's Central Park location, well… Chantelle cried and hugged him, and Whitey got teary, and gave Giles a big, back-thumping hug.

Of course everyone felt sappy and romantic afterwards. Buffy and Xander were half-naked before they got to the door of his room, and Sunrise, Sh'rin, Rose and I were pretty much the same way before we got to Rose's room.

Also, there were a couple of firsts that night. Okay, three firsts.

Turns out that Abelena Juarez, the deaf newbie, and Tracy Bronson, the epileptic newbie, had fallen for each other, and no one had noticed. But when Nancy came to wake Tracy at breakfast time, she found her and Abelena in the middle of making love. (They told Nancy later it was their first time, and she believed them.) She didn't scold, lecture or yell— just excused herself, said breakfast was ready, and, when they came to her after breakfast, told them to lock the door if they were making love from now on. She also put down Giles's rule about not sleeping in the same room on school nights during the regular school year.

When Vivian and Vincent came to breakfast, they both came from her room, both looked supremely happy— and Vincent seemed to be unable to stop blushing… or smiling.

And _Giles_ was coming out of _Kelly's_ room just as Rose, Sunrise, Sh'rin and I came out of Rose's.

Poor man blushed every color a human can blush, and some I hadn't known that humans _could_ blush— but Rose hugged him, said, "It's cool, Giles. I'm glad you guys are happy,"— and he seemed to relax.

"But you'd better not expect me to call you 'father,' when the time comes— _much_ too British," Rose said over her shoulder as we walked down the stairs— and he started sputtering like an overfull teakettle at full boil.

"Priceless, Rose!" Sunrise laughed as we trooped down the stairs.

That morning, construction guys showed up again, and started working on what looked to be a smaller guest house than the one we already had. Only Xander and Giles seemed unsurprised, so I figured that was the thing they'd been plotting, and asked what was up.

"Well, it seems to me that Whitey and Chantelle will need a place to themselves," Giles said. "And the guest house wouldn't truly be theirs— this will be. Small, but with a bedroom for the baby, and privacy for the two of them.

"There is a tradition of the Watcher's Council giving a Watcher who weds a rather extravagant gift, often a house— so the honeymoon was from me, the house is from the Watcher's Council. Robin, Andrew, Kelly and Sh'rin— whom we've given a place on the council, as a liaison from the Guardians— agreed that it was a custom worth keeping alive."

How does somebody who tries so hard to be stuffy manage to be so damned huggable?

Three days before Whitey and Chantelle were due back, I proved that Chantelle wasn't the only dingbat in the house.

After a lunch of Grandma Riley's fried chicken, baked potatoes, creamed corn and spinach salad— all my favorites— Rose and I went to her room to snuggle. We barely got comfortable when Buffy's voice came over the intercom.

"Rose, Elaine," she said, "we've got a mission. Come to the library for briefing, please."

We moved down there on the bounce, walked in— and again, everybody shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" from around the big conference table.

I'm a _little_ quicker than Chantelle was— I slapped my forehead and said, "It's the eleventh! I'm sixteen! Holy freaking crap!"

I got a cake decorated with a ballerina, tons of cool presents, and hugs and kisses left and right. But the two coolest presents were from Giles and Kelly.

Little bitty box from Giles, and in it was a map. The map led me— and everyone else, they all followed— to one of the unused rooms in the basement. When I opened the door, I found a _fully-equipped, sprung-floor, mirrored wall, _barre_-on-mirrored-wall dance studio!_

I hugged him hard enough to make his ribs creak, poked around for a few minutes— then went upstairs to open my last present, from Kelly. Another small box, jewelry-sized— and in it lay a single key, with the Volkswagen logo cut into its top.

As Rose would say, I "meeped." Twice. Then I finally said, "Oh, Kelly, you didn't…! Did you?"

"I had some help, honey," Kelly said in an oddly gentle voice. "Go look in the driveway, then I'll explain."

I'm not ashamed to admit it; I _tried_ to just walk. I made it to the library door— then I _ran!_

Sitting in the shade of the big oak tree over the driveway was a brand new Volkswagen Beetle, painted the exact same green-gold shade as Rose's eyes. There was a vanity plate on it, which said, DANCE87— the year I was born.

"Oh… my… GOD!" I yelled— and turned to hug Kelly super-hard, super-tight, and super-long. She hugged back, held back— then she made me cry, but in a good way.

"Kelly, this is just way too much money to spend on me, you shouldn't have!" I said.

"I told you inside that I had some help, sweetheart," Kelly said. "Come here."

We sat on the big patio-couch a few away, her on one side, Rose on the other, Laurie on the other side of Kelly.

"Honey… less than a third of that car was paid for with my money," Elaine said. "You see… well, your parents financial records and things were shown to me after I was named your guardian, and there was a bank book marked 'Elaine's Car' on the front. I spoke to your family's lawyer, he spoke to your grandparents and the executors of the trust fund they set aside for you… and then they gave me the money from that account, to buy you the car your parents would have if they'd been here to do it.

"So that's a gift from me, yes… but mostly it's from your parents."

I cried for ten minutes or so— then I spent five more just cuddling with Kelly and Rose and Laurie.

Then Kelly let me pull the car into the garage, and promised to take me bright and early to get my driver's license the next day. (The Driver's License Bureau didn't open on Mondays, which was okay— Illinois has this weird policy where if you get your driver's license on your sixteenth birthday, you have to renew a year later. If you wait even just until the day after, it's good for four years. Freaky, right?)

The rest of the day was wonderful.

The next Wednesday, the construction people (working double shifts, and with huge bonuses) finished Whitey and Chantelle's little house, and Thursday, Whitey and Chantelle came back.

They were just plain floored at the idea of having their own house. Whitey was speechless, and Chantelle could only say, "Our own house! Seriously!" over and over for a few minutes.

They stayed in the house that night; we'd moved everything from Whitey's room in the mansion over there already. Giles gave Whitey Friday off (and a check for a serious chunk of change) to get the place furnished. By Saturday afternoon, the place was completely furnished, and Whitey and Chantelle disappeared into it right after dinner, weren't seen again until breakfast Sunday morning.

Then on Monday, the bad shit came back into our lives.

Monday afternoon, somebody murdered Kennedy.


	44. Chapter 44

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 44

_Rose:_

Man. What a weird, wonderful couple of weeks we'd had. Vampire shit, nearly having Whitey stuck on the wrong path, him and Chantelle getting married, Vincent and Viv becoming lovers, _Mom and Giles_ becoming lovers, Elaine's birthday, Mom getting together with Elaine's parents— sort of— to buy Elaine a car for her sweet sixteen… intense.

The Monday after Whitey and Chantelle came back from their honeymoon started out cool, and I mean serious cool. Chelsea, after a thorough physical examination by Giles (chaperoned by Mom), was allowed to join my martial arts classes, and, if she hadn't worn herself to a frazzle by then, would be allowed to join Whitey's, as well. She worked her butt off in my class, had a focus you almost never see from kids that age, and had to be practically sat on before she'd take a break when I saw her getting shaky.

At lunchtime, we discovered another treasure in our midst; Chantelle cooked, and she made the best pork chops ever! (Her grandma's recipe, which _so_ failed to surprise me. Grandmas can _cook,_ that's all.) She did a great job, and she didn't leave as much of a mess as some people (if you're reading this, I'm talking to YOU, Xander Harris!) did when cooking. Since I had clean-up duty with Sara, I appreciated the lack of mess.

Whitey's class, an hour after lunch, was a lot of fun (always is, he's a good teacher), and I got assigned to keep an eye on Chelsea, who again resisted when made to rest— love that kid!

After class and a shower, I came down to discover Kimber and Brian had come over, and me, Elaine, Sunrise and Sh'rin all went to the rec room with them to watch a movie. Just a little before it ended, Giles stuck his head in, asked if Elaine wanted to take the minivan to Barnes and Noble's to pick up a shipment of textbooks that had come in. She said sure, after the movie she and I would go. Just as the credits started to roll, Kennedy stuck her head in, said not to worry, she was gonna go.

"They got a book I ordered in," she said. "So I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone. You guys hang, I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Thanks, Kennedy," Elaine said. "But I could pick it up for you, if you'd rather stay here."

"Nope, I'm good," she said. "Besides, Wil wants to talk to Kimber— this gives them time to hang and talk about witchy stuff."

She took off, and we went upstairs. Kimber and Willow went to the study to talk, and me, Brian, Elaine and Sunrise sat down to look at the demon-slash-monster database that Brian was building for us.

About the time Kennedy should have been getting back, the doorbell rang, and I went to get it.

There was a guy in a suit there, looking… well, sad, but not normal sad. He looked professionally sad, if that makes any sense. Like looking sad was his job.

"May I help you?" I asked.

"May I speak to Willow Rosenberg?" he asked.

"May I ask who's calling?" I countered.

"Detective Charles Kelton, Bloomington Police Department," he said, showing me his badge. "It's… rather urgent."

"Come in, sir, I'll get her." I stepped aside, motioned him to a chair, and went to the library, stuck my head in, said to Elaine, Sunrise and Bri, "One of you find Giles, now! There's a cop here, asking for Willow. I've got a bad feeling."

Sunrise went to the intercom, started talking, and I went to the study next door, took a deep breath, and went in.

"Willow?" I said. "Willow, there's… someone here to see you."

"See me?" Willow said, looking surprised. "Who is it?"

"I… Willow, he's from the police," I said, feeling more scared with every passing second.

"The… the police?" she said. Then she moved, pushed past me, and headed for the living room at a run.

She saw Giles sitting across from the detective, said, "What's going on? Is Kennedy hurt?"

"Miss Rosenberg?" the cop said.

"I'm Willow Rosenberg," she said, sounding almost panicked. "Is Kennedy hurt?"

"Miss Rosenberg, I'm Detective Kelton of the Bloomington Police Department," he said slowly. "You know Jane Kennedy Wilcox?"

"She's my girlfriend, now answer me, is she hurt!" Willow cried. I saw Buffy and Xander come in, move towards her.

"Miss Rosenberg, there's no easy way to say this," Detective Kelton said. "I'm afraid Miss Wilcox… has been killed."

"No." Willow said it in this tiny little voice— and fainted.

Buffy caught her before she hit the ground.

_Interlude:_

"That's how it should be done," Claudia Steele said, grinning. She pulled the holstered pistol from the back of her jeans, dropped it on the hotel bed, pulled Amy Madison to her feet, kissed her hard. "One dead Slayer, Amy. Two to the head."

"Excellent," Amy said, and kissed Claudia briefly. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, we're packed," Claudia said. "Let me put the gun in my bag, we can go. And I'll get rid of it once we're in Chi, like you said."

"Okay, good," Amy said. "Don't want Willow tracking it. And if she gets the one of bullets, she could— if we don't destroy the gun."

"Yeah, that could be bad," Claudia said, straightening from stowing the gun and shouldering her bag. "I just wish they hadn't pulled off saving their weak link guy. That was a tight plan, babe, it's a shame they pulled a save."

"You're sweet," Amy said, hopping in the driver's seat of the Ascari KZ1 that Claudia had bought her and belting in. "Yeah, they got lucky— but not this time. You're too good for luck to stop you."

"You say the sweetest things," Claudia said.

Once they were out of town and Amy's need to shift the car had stopped, Claudia laced her fingers through Amy's, held on until they got to the outer edge of Chicago.

_Rose:_

Everything went a little crazy after Willow fainted. Most of us were crying, Buffy and Xander were both cradling Willow, holding her between them, looking hurt and pissed and sick, and Giles was trying really, really hard to hold it together and talk to the detective.

I pulled myself together by remembering Daddy.

I'd once asked him how he dealt with it when he couldn't save someone. He'd been awful quiet for a couple days before I asked, having lost one, been unable to get to a lady before the building she was in burned too much and fell on her. On the first day he seemed better, I asked him how he stayed so strong. He pulled me into his lap (I was just barely eight, then), and thought a minute before answering.

"Well, now, Rose Erin, it's mostly that I remember that it isn't about my own hurt," he said after a minute or so. "It does hurt me, no mistake— if it didn't hurt to lose one, why would I try to save any, if you see my thinking."

"I see, Daddy," I said, and snuggled closer. "And I know it hurts— I saw when you came home, remember?"

"I know, and you were strong and didn't cry, though it must have scared you to see me crying so," Daddy said, and squeezed me. "And that, my Emerald Rose, is the answer to your question. Sometimes, you need to be strong and not let your own hurt rule for a time, deal with the hurt of others first. You did that when I came home that night, and I love you for it— and it tells me that your mother and I have raised you well. You cared enough about me to put your own hurt aside.

"So to answer your question, Rose… I deal with it by remembering that my own hurt is not so great as someone else's, and putting mine aside to deal with later."

So… I pushed aside my own hurt, and thought about everyone else. So far, not everyone knew— that needed fixed, but I should stay and hear more first, so I went to Giles, slid under his arm, and listened as the detective told him what had happened.

What it came down to was short, simple, and ugly. Kennedy had gone to Barnes and Noble's, parked the van, got out, locked it, turned around and been shot twice in the head by a girl. The parking lot had been almost entirely empty, and had been totally empty close to Barnes and Noble's, so no one had gotten a good look at the killer— though they knew it was a girl.

I knew right then who was responsible. Amy. Amy Madison. Maybe she hadn't done it— from all we'd been told, using a gun herself wasn't her style— but she was responsible.

The girl had taken the cash out of Kennedy's wallet, dropped the wallet on the ground next to her body and left at a run. No one knew more than that she'd crossed Eastland Drive, gone towards the Cub Foods shopping plaza— she'd vanished from there.

The detective wanted to hang around and talk to Willow, but Giles dissuaded him. While he was still trying to get the detective to go, I moved away, went to kneel next to Buffy, who was still holding the unconscious Willow from one side, with Xander on the other.

"You need to get her upstairs," I said to Buffy, as quietly as I could. "If she wakes up and has to talk to the detective right now, it could get really awkward. Especially if he asks who might have a reason to kill Kennedy. If she answers with the truth— and she's so hurt right now, I doubt she could think to lie— it could get really messy."

"Damn, you're right," Buffy said. "Xander, let's get her upstairs— my room, it's closer than yours."

"Yeah, okay," he said, and swiped his face to clear the tears before slipping his arms under Willow to lift her. Just before he stood up straight, Xander said, "Good thinking, Rose— thanks."

"Yes, thank you," Buffy said. She kissed my cheek, and went upstairs, following Xander as he carried Willow as though she weighed nothing.

I went to Elaine, hugged her, held onto her for a minute, then let her hug Kimber and Brian, and went to the kitchen to find Mom and tell her.

I hated it. Telling people, I mean. But Giles, Buffy and the others… they had a horribly hurt Willow to deal with. So I did it.

Mom helped, went and told Nancy, though she let Nancy break it to the girls. I found Whitey and Chantelle in their house, told them, then found Vincent and Vivian in the basement, told them. When I came back up from that, Mom was coming in from outside, and we went to the living room together. Brianne, Sara and Laurie had come down, been told already, and were crying together in a chair, Sara and Laurie bracketing Bree.

So I let Mom go to Giles, and I went to the huddle of my friends and lovers, worked my way in— and let myself cry for a while.

For a day that had started so well, it sure went to hell fast.

Dinner was sandwiches, grabbed as we wanted them. Most people ate, but more from habit than desire. Giles had checked on Willow, found her weeping inconsolably on Buffy and Xander— then gone downstairs to tear the hell out of a heavy bag for a while.

Kimber and Brian tried to leave, though the original intent had been for them to stay 'til nine or so. Elaine and I got them to stay, and the four of us plus Sunrise and Sh'rin hung out for a while, being morose at each other.

About eight, Kimber, who'd been sitting between Elaine and Brian, stood up and said, "Psychometry!"

"Bless you," I said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Kimber said. "Look, psychometry— okay, maybe I want retrocognition, the ability to see the past— might tell us who killed Kennedy. And I think I know how."

"We pretty much know who," Elaine said. "She's— she was— Willow's girlfriend. Amy Madison hates Willow. So… Amy's the most likely person behind this."

"You just said, 'pretty much know,' and 'most likely,' Elaine," Kimber said. "Maybe we should be sure. Maybe we _could_ be sure. I saw a spell in the book Willow was showing me last Friday, one to let you look into the past."

"Would we have to go to where it happened?" Brian asked. "Because there's going to be cops there, Kimber. Probably for a long time, yet."

"Damn, you're right," Kimber said. "But… tomorrow? Maybe?"

"Not a horrible idea," Elaine said slowly. "But… Kimber, you haven't made magic work yet, have you?"

"No," Kimber said. "But Willow says it's only a matter of need.

"Well, Willow's my friend, and I love her. She's hurting. I need to help.

"Can we try?"

"We'll try," Sunrise said firmly. "She's our friend, Kennedy was our friend, and we'll try.

"But tomorrow. Have to be. Brian's right, the cops will be there still, and besides— any of us who live here trying to leave tonight would probably be met with a big 'hell, no!' Everybody's tense."

"Yeah, you're right, Dawn," Kimber said. "Okay, tomorrow… after lunch?"

We made the plans, tentative, because the grownups might have other ideas, then sat and talked for the time until Brian and Kimber left. Mom was in the living room, and she made them promise to be careful, not to dawdle outside, or go anywhere to park. Brian (he was driving) promised all those things, and Kimber too, and Mom seemed to relax some.

Willow didn't come down before everyone went to bed, though Buffy did come down for a few, told us that Wil was dealing "as well as anyone could ask," then went back up.

Sunrise and Sh'rin stayed with me and Elaine that night, but just for comfort. None of us felt sexy.

No one wanted any of us to go out the next day. We didn't argue, though we wanted to— but it wouldn't have been fair or a good idea. The adults were all seriously stressed, so we let it go. Instead, Brian and Kimber did it on their own.

They showed up about two, and Kimber was wild-eyed, flushed and seriously jazzed.

"It worked!" she said, as soon as we six were alone. "I did it! Not just one spell, but three!"

We congratulated her, and asked what they'd seen. She took a deep breath, reached into her truly huge purse, and pulled out a very old silver-backed mirror.

"This was spell number two," she said. "I captured the… the _event_ in it. All of it. It's… it's not pretty, it's… you don't have to watch it, and maybe you shouldn't. It's ugly, a kind of ugly I've never seen before— and don't want to again.

"And besides… spell number three means you can see who without seeing the actual… thing."

Again, she reached into her purse, this time pulling out a plastic square about a six inches on each side, mounted on a black plastic base, which she handed to Elaine.

"I got some toy in this, years ago," she said. "Mom keeps every box, container or bag that ever enters our house, and I found it when I went looking for something to hold the image. Hold it flat on your hand, Elaine, it'll display the image I caught."

Elaine held it as Kimber instructed, and it lit up with a three-dimensional picture of a girl's head and shoulders. I stared at her, memorizing her every feature. Dark gold hair, blue eyes, a straight, almost-big nose, a mouth that looked a little wide… and wore a smile that made me nervous.

"You can pull back for a full-figure shot, but… she's got the gun in her hand, it's sort of… creepy." Kimber shivered, and Brian put an arm around her waist, hugged her to him. "But… it'll help, right?"

"Damn straight," I said. "Kimber… you rock.

"But we have to tell the Watchers about this. You okay with them knowing you did it?"

"Yes," she said. "If they get testy about me doing the magic, I'll point out that it came. For the first time, it came when I called— so the need was _real_."

"All right," I said. "I'll get everyone. You guys wait here."

I found Giles and Whitey sitting in the study, going over a copy of the police report. I didn't mess around, came straight to the point.

"Guys, Kimber got us an image of the girl who killed Kennedy," I said. "Magically, I mean. Can you get together everybody who should know about it, should see it, and is in shape to deal with it?"

"Kimber— she did what?" Giles asked.

"She did some retrocognition spell, then captured the things it showed with more magic," I said patiently. "Giles, we know what the girl who did it looks like— and Kimber has… she captured the actual shooting. I thought maybe Whitey and Vincent could watch it, look for clues…."

"Hell, yes!" Whitey said. "Giles?"

"Everyone but Willow, Buffy and Xander," Giles said. "Gather them in the library. I want everyone to know what this girl looks like, even the newer students— that they know to be wary of her. And if you and Vincent and I look over the… the shooting, we may find something useful."

"On it," Whitey said, and went out of the room.

Giles turned to me and said, "Rose… was this Kimber's idea, or do I need to thank more than one person?"

"Kimber's idea," I said. "Brian drove, and he probably helped hold things or pass her supplies or whatever, but it was pretty much all Kimber."

"I swear, I'll make her a Watcher," Giles said. "We'll meet in the library, Rose— gather your friends."

Kimber got praised a lot, hugged almost as much, and then praised some more. She blushed, looked proud, thanked everyone, then let us do what we had to do.

No one recognized the killer, no one had seen her before, but Giles made everyone (except Bree, of course) study the magical hologram, full figure (and what a figure— shouldn't evil chicks be ugly, not hot?) and face both.

"If any of you see her— any of you!— you do not approach her alone," Giles said. "You call for experienced help, and you try to keep her in sight if and _only_ if you are sure she suspects nothing."

"And by experienced help," Whitey said, "we mean a Watcher or a team leader. Giles, Kelly, myself, Buffy or Rose."

I blinked, blushed— and decided that if it came down to that, I'd be careful, earn that sort of trust.

Buffy came in while I was still mentally squaring my shoulders, looking tired and sad. She looked around and asked, "What's going on?"

"Kimber worked a small miracle for us," Giles said. "Come and look at this, Buffy."

He showed Buffy the magical hologram of Kennedy's killer, said, "This is the girl who killed Kennedy. Kimber captured the image— and the full event— magically a little while ago.

"I don't suppose you recognize her?"

Buffy stared for a long moment, then shook her head. "No, I don't know her. But… I will know her. You beat someone down hard enough, you get to know them.

"Kimber? Kimber, thank you. For Willow, for Kennedy— for us. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Kimber said. "Willow… she deserves all the help I can give her. She's taught me more than I ever knew I could learn— and she doesn't deserve to be hurt like this."

"Kennedy didn't deserve this," Willow said. She'd come in and stopped just inside the door, moving silently while we talked. I could see Xander, looking hurt and worried, over her shoulder. She stepped in, took the cube from Buffy, examined it, played with the picture, visibly memorizing the girl's features. "Kimber, can you make a second one of these?"

"I can," Kimber said. "I just need something to capture the image in, something transparent and pretty sturdy."

"Then do it as soon as you can find something, please," Willow said. Tears were pouring down her face, but she didn't seem aware of them. "This… we need it. But I may be able to track this girl, with an image like this. Thing is, it'll destroy it to even try. And if it doesn't work… I don't want our one picture of this bitch destroyed."

"How big does the image need to be?" Kimber asked.

"As close to life-size as you can make it would help," Willow said.

"I think I can help," Whitey said. "Giles, I'll need to spend some money— Plexiglas, metal for framing it out—"

"Use wood," Willow said. "If you can? Works better for the magic I'll be doing."

"Can do," Whitey said. "Giles?"

"Use the Watcher account credit card," Giles said. "Start now, please."

"On the way," Whitey said. He kissed Chantelle briefly, stopped at the doorway and very gently hugged Willow— she hugged back, leaking tears faster and sobbing a little, and he held on until she let go— then left, moving at almost a run for the kitchen and the rack of keys to vehicles.

"Giles… Giles, Kennedy's family is going to have her buried in their family plot in New York," Willow said, gulping tears. "I… need to go. And they knew… you know, the Slayer deal. So if anyone else wants… wants to go, they… they'll be welcome."

"We'll all go," Giles said. "Except the newest students, we'll—"

"The hell!" Jenna Darius said, jumping up. "Look, she was a friend! She… she didn't understand, she couldn't understand what— things about me. But she didn't stop trying to! She didn't— she wasn't— she was some rich girl, some brat, I thought— but she wasn't that way, she— she gave a shit! She got that I can't talk, not about— she didn't push that! She never pushed that, she just… let me deal. My way. She taught me things, and she didn't— she never looked at me like _I_ did something wrong!

"I need to go. _Please,_ I need to go!"

"All right," Giles said. "All right, Jenna."

"Giles," Nancy O'Brien said. "Giles, we should all go. Not necessarily to the funeral, but… I don't want to be left here with the girls. We should all go to New York, and then work out who wants to go to the funeral from there."

"It would be safest," Mom said. "Anyone left alone could be a target."

"Yes, you're right," Giles said. "You're all three right. We'll all go.

"Dawn, can you see about a chartered flight online, please?"

"Right away," Sunrise said, and headed for a computer.

While she did that, Willow went and hugged Giles for a long, long moment— then let go of him and went to Jenna, pulled her close, hugged her hard— and that set them both to crying. Buffy, seeming to get how hard that was for Jenna, guided them both to the study to be alone.

"Dawn— no, you're busy— Xander, I'd like you to contact Robin, inform him of the details of Kennedy's funeral arrangements, and Andrew, please," Giles said. "All who wish can attend.

"Kelly… some of the girls here who wish to go to the visitation and funeral may not have anything appropriate to wear— can you help with that?"

"Of course, Rupert," Mom said. "Girls, those of you who want to go to the funeral and don't have anything to wear… we'll go in shifts, I think. Nancy, could you help me work this out, please?"

Mom and Nancy retreated to the corner of the library, talking to girls as they went.

I went to Elaine, sat with her and shuddered for a while.


	45. Chapter 45

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 45

_Elaine:_

God, what a disaster.

Whitey and Xander made the life-size box that Kimber needed, and she transferred an image of Kennedy's killer to it for Willow to use in her attempt at tracking the bitch. With Buffy and Xander acting to anchor her, Wil cast the spell, being meticulous and careful, getting everything just right before starting it— and it flopped. We were all watching, all us combat-ready types and Watchers, just in case— and we all saw the flare of counter-magic, though Kimber had to tell some of us that that's what it was we were seeing.

"Damn her!" Willow raged when the spell had failed. "Damn Amy! Giles, it was her— and that's not prejudice talking, or— or grief. That counter-magic, that was Amy! That bitch _was_ behind this!"

"I was afraid of that," Giles said. "Is there any possibility that you can get around that counter-spell, Willow?"

"Not without going into the dark," Willow said despondently. "And I can't— I _won't_— do that. Kennedy would be furious if I did, and I… I can't d-do that to h-her."

"Of course you can't," Giles said, and pulled Willow into his arms. "Willow, I'm proud of you for seeing that, for knowing that."

We left them down there in the basement room where Wil had tried the spell, Willow, Giles, Buffy and Xander, huddled close together, all focused on helping Willow hold it together. When we all got upstairs, Whitey came over to the huddle of me, Rose, Sunrise and Sh'rin, and said, "Rose? Can I borrow you for a minute?"

Rose went with him, and they disappeared into the study for a few minutes. When they came out, Rose looked ready to kill something— and Whitey looked the same way.

"I need a few minutes on the bag," Rose said when she came back to us. Her voice was low and tense, and her expression both angry and hurt. "Then… we need to talk. All of us. Whitey's telling Giles and the others. I imagine it will be in the library."

We went to the basement with her, and Sunrise, being biggest and most practiced, held the heavy bag while my wild Rose beat the living shit out of it, firing punch after punch into it at speeds that left me knowing just exactly how angry she was— and the only time I'd seen her angrier was when she'd seen her mom fall apart after Kelly realized what Jerry had done to her.

May the Powers That Be grant that you never have to see such anger, let alone face it.

The heavy bag wasn't enough. Rose whirled away from it, went after the kick bag, kicked it to death at least three times over, then finally stopped. She wasn't calm— far from it— but she had control of her anger, at least.

We went upstairs after her, and Rose didn't say a word. Sh'rin looked at us after looking at Rose's face, gave the tiniest shake of her head, warning us not to ask— not like we needed it, but I think she wanted to be sure.

Rose strode to the library, walked in, and went to a spot at the head of the middle of the three tables that were being used. Everyone was there, even the newbies, and Whitey, when I looked at him, wore an expression similar to Rose's. Sunrise and I exchanged "what the hell?" glances as we sat down at the spots for us and Sh'rin that had been saved by Kelly at the middle table. Buffy and Xander were bracketing Willow, and Giles stood just behind the three of them.

"Whitey said that there was something you needed to tell us, Rose," Giles said, looking at her a little worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"No," Rose snapped. "I'm pissed.

"Whitey… he asked me to do something. I hope you won't be angry with him, Mom, Giles, for asking me— but Buffy was helping you guys and Willow when the idea came to him, and that's the most important thing there is, right now. So he asked me. He says I've pushed myself harder than most, so he thought I might be able to answer the question that he thought of— and it needed answering now, not later.

"I've watched the incident that Kimber caught in the mirror, all of it. Whitey didn't want me to, he tried to save me from the worst of it— but I had to be absolutely sure of what I was seeing, so I watched it all. It's going to maybe give me some nightmares, but… I'll deal. Elaine, Sunrise, Sh'rin, they'll get me past them when they happen, and I'll probably need to talk when I'm awake, and I won't hesitate, I promise— but I had to see. I had to know. I had to be certain that I was seeing what I thought I was seeing— and I am.

"I'm sorry, I'm rambling— but god, I hate even _thinking_ this, let alone saying it!"

"Tell us, Rose," Kelly said, very gently. "Please, honey."

"Whitey had me watch Kennedy's killer run away," Rose said. "That's all he wanted me to see, all he wanted me to look at— but it wasn't enough. I couldn't be sure what I was seeing. So I went back to the beginning, and I watched until I _was_ sure— and I am absolutely sure.

"The girl who murdered Kennedy is a Slayer.

"That bitch Amy Madison has one of us working with her."

"Rose, are you utterly certain?" Giles asked, looking horrified.

"Positive," Rose said, while the rest of us reacted. "She ran faster than a normal human could have, but I thought— hoped!— that was maybe adrenaline. That's why I watched… watched the rest of it.

"Giles, nobody human could draw a gun and… and aim and f-fire that fast. Nobody. Not even Vincent, and he's superhumanly quick, and trained to speed-draw.

"That was a Slayer.

"And I think it was that bitch that Daddy's ghost warned me about. It feels… it feel l-like it's her."

Rose was trying really hard to hold herself together, but starting to slip. Giles saw that, went to her and gently pushed her towards Kelly. She went, climbed into Kelly's lap like a child— and I wanted to cry, seeing how hurt she was, how much watching Kennedy's murder had affected her.

Kelly _was_ leaking tears.

"All right, that changes things," Giles said. "Should any of you see her, you do not attempt to follow her, unless you are not alone, unless you have someone with you capable of fighting. She's a killer, and she's capable of fighting at your level, in all likelihood— possibly beyond it.

"But none of you are to face her alone— Buffy, I include you in this. I know that you are in all likelihood far better trained than the killer— but if Amy is nearby, that changes the odds.

"I will _not_ lose another girl to her. Do _not_ face her alone."

Everyone agreed, even Buffy, and we broke up. Kelly stayed where she was, waved me, Sh'rin and Sunrise over, even as Laurie came to join us. We all gathered around to hug and hold Rose, to help her come down from what she'd seen, which took a while. When it was over, and she'd stopped crying, Kelly said, "Day off. Mom-decreed. No more anything strenuous for you, Rose Erin Killian."

"Yes, ma'am," Rose said. "Thank you, Mom. All of you. I… I'm sorry I fell ap—"

"Are you nuts!" Sunrise said. "Rose— god! What is it about Slayers? Do you all think that being super-strong makes you super-human? Because I know better!

"Rose, you watched the kind of thing I pray I'll never have to see— and you did this, this incredibly goddamned brave thing, and you're apologizing for letting it make you cry?

"I swear to god, if I wasn't half afraid that Elaine would kick my ass for it, I'd spank you!"

Rose gaped for a minute, then shut her mouth and nodded.

"Dawn Summers, someday, you are going to make a wonderful mom," Kelly said. "But next time, watch your language, please."

"Sorry, Kelly," Sunrise said. "And thank you. But… she kinda made me mad with apologizing for being human."

"Good call," Kelly said. "Okay— you folks need to all take the day off. We're ordering out tonight— the idea of Mugsy's came up, if we can get them to deliver that much food, pizza if they can't handle it— so nobody has to cook or do much cleaning up.

"Go on, girls— try to do something fun, or… frivolous. If you can. If not… well, nothing hard or hurtful, at least."

We agreed, and we all left the library. Willow was standing down the hall a little ways, leaning there talking quietly to Xander, watching the library doors. She saw us come out, straightened up, and came straight to Rose.

"Thank you," Willow said, and pulled Rose into a wraparound hug. "Rose… thank you. I understand how hard what you did was, and I… thank you!"

"You're welcome," Rose said against Willow's neck. "We redheads have to look out for each other, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Wil said. She stood rocking Rose for a minute, then let her go and said, "Owe you one, Rose."

"Okay," Rose said. "Gee, between you and Xander owing me one, I may not have to do dishes for a whole week, if I play my cards right."

"I think I really owe you a little more than a turn at kitchen clean-up," Willow said, and gave Rose the tiniest of smiles.

"So… remember something for me?" Rose asked.

"Anything," Willow said.

Rose leaned forward and whispered in Willow's ear for a minute. Willow's eyes went wide and troubled— but Rose looked at her when she pulled away, and said, "I'm just asking that you remember, Willow. Not that you… do anything to make sure it happens that way. Just remember."

"Okay," Willow said softly. "Okay, Rose. I'll remember."

She hugged Rose once more, then she and Xander went off to do something, and Kelly looked sideways at Rose.

"Will you tell me if I ask?" she asked.

"I will if you insist, Mom," Rose said. She took Kelly's hand, squeezed it. "But I'd rather not. It's… a Slayer thing. And it's… it's not something that would make anyone else feel better about anything. But it is something that makes me feel better, feel… less like I'm not in control."

"Okay," Kelly sighed. "I'll trust you, Rose. You've gone and made it _necessary_ that I trust you.

"Emotional blackmail was a lot easier before you got all responsible, daughter mine!"

"I knew there were benefits to growing up," Rose said, giving her mom a strained smile. "If I'd known that was one of them, I'd have tried it out a long time ago."

Kelly chuckled just a little, and she and Laurie went off to the living room while we four went upstairs, _sans_ discussion, and to Rose's room and her big bed. We all laid down, putting Rose in the middle, and I asked the question we all wanted an answer to.

"What did you ask Willow to remember, Rose?" I asked.

"Simple enough," Rose said. "I asked her to remember, when it came down to the wire, that the Powers That Be had Daddy tell _me_ about the Slayer who'd be disdainful of helping people— not Buffy, not Faith, not one of the other veterans, but _me_— and that they probably did it that way on purpose.

"I think it's supposed to be me and you, Elaine. I think we're meant to take her down— and I asked Wil to remember that."

We all stared at her in shock, then Sh'rin said softly, "The Powers do all that they do for a reason, my Undefeated one— so you may be speaking truth. That you would have Dancer by your side… you are no fool.

"I accept your argument, will help you make it when the time comes. But I beg you, Rose Fire-hair… be careful when the day arrives. To lose you, to lose Elaine— Dawn and I would hurt forever."

"Yes," Sunrise said. "We would. But… you make a good case.

"So you two just be careful."

"We will be," Rose said. "I have every intention of growing too old to fight, and being consoled by the three of you when it happens."

We just lay there and cuddled until dinner time. Scared and all— and I was scared, because I thought Rose was right, and killer Slayer… scarier than killer demon, because there was no excuse of "Hey, I'm evil," you know?

Scared and all, it was good to lay there and love and be loved.

The funeral was a bad, bad scene, but that may have just been me— my parents had only been dead three months, and I hated the idea of going to another funeral.

(We won't go into how hard it was for me to get on that plane. Or— okay, I'm supposed to be honest. It took everything I had to do it. And that wouldn't have been enough, not if Rose, Kelly, Laurie, Sunrise and Sh'rin hadn't pretty much group hugged me as we walked to the damned thing, while Buffy and Xander stood in the door and held their hands out to me. I did it, and I did it again when it came time to go home— but I never, EVER want to have to do it again!)

Kennedy's family… they made us as welcome as their pain allowed, and that made things hurt more.

Upstate New York is gorgeous country— but the day wept as we buried Kennedy, light rain falling in a steady, constant way that said it wouldn't stop any time soon.

Willow spoke at the church service, after the preacher did, and I… I can't make myself put her words down, not now. Maybe someday, I'll come back and add them in. But not soon. Her pain… twice she'd loved a woman, twice her lover had been murdered. I may never understand that pain, I never, ever want to… but Willow communicated the pain of missing Kennedy well enough to have everyone in tears.

At the graveside… something that I have to call good happened.

Delia Smith, the twelve-ish Slayer who was either autistic or traumatized, hadn't said a word in the time she'd been with us. Her behavior had improved hugely— no wandering off for no apparent reason, no sign of the tantrums that her file from the mental hospital where she'd been before had mentioned as being at least weekly occurrences… but no talking. No efforts to communicate, even. Nothing. Even smiles were rare, coming only when she hugged Kelly or Nancy goodnight, and not even always then. Just that calm, almost angelically beautiful little face regarding us solemnly.

Nancy hadn't wanted to bring her to the funeral. But while taking the others shopping, Nancy had taken Delia along, and Delia had kept grabbing a black dress in her own size and putting it in Nancy's hands, until the dorm-mother gave in and bought it. Then Delia had simply included herself, dressed and ready, in the group to go to the visitation and funeral.

At the funeral, as they started lowering Kennedy's coffin into the grave, Delia shocked us all.

She sang.

Silent little Delia sang, sang in this beautiful soprano voice, strong, carrying, almost professional quality, she sang Amazing Grace— with tears pouring down her face. Tears— not just rainwater!

When she finished the song, she buried her face in Nancy's side and let Nancy lead her away from the grave.

But later… breakthrough number two!

We went to a reception-wake-thing at the Wilcox's mansion (MUCH bigger than Scooby Mansion), and once everyone was inside and starting to settle, Willow came over to Delia, hugged her, got hugged back fiercely. After a long moment, Willow said, "Thank you, honey. That was beautiful, and I know that Kennedy would think so, too."

Delia looked up at Willow, down at the ground— still holding onto Willow's hands, not letting her leave— and started shaking. After a few seconds of this, Delia looked up at Willow and said, softly, so softly you almost couldn't hear it, "W-w-welcome."

Then she hugged Willow again before releasing her, turning, and grabbing onto Nancy again as though Nancy was the only thing keeping her from blowing away.

We went home the following day. Delia hadn't said any more— but she made a point of hugging Willow often, and would smile at her every time.

The Monday after we got back, school started. I returned to Winston, Rose to BHS, and Sunrise went to Winston as well, joined me in dance classes. Most of the others spent their days being taught by Nancy, Giles, Kelly, Whitey, Vincent (he made a great PE teacher) and Vivian, who was a more-than-merely-competent math teacher.

That first week… quiet. Nice and quiet. It almost felt normal, except for those few who did the nudge-and-point at me, the poor little orphan girl.

Friday, Rose, Sunrise, Sh'rin and I went out to see a movie after dinner, planned on going to get ice cream after.

It didn't happen quite that way.

We went to see Jackie Chan's new movie, the Medallion. Jackie Chan, so good fights and stunts, and Claire Forlani for eye candy— no bad here, right?

It was silly, but fun. Also, we were the only ones in the theater— it never did do well, I guess.

Of course, things went straight to crazy afterwards.

We got in my Beetle (I love that car!) after the movie, and I started us for Carl's Ice Cream Factory in Bloomington, liking that, due to the Medallion being a short movie, and us having been the only ones in it, we had almost no traffic to deal with, as it let out well before most of the other shows.

Going to Carl's was kind of a long drive, as the Palace is way out past the airport, outside the city limits. Heck, there were farms right across the road that you took to get to the theater.

Which is why we didn't see the guy until he came staggering out into the road— he came from out of a cornfield, at a broken place in the fence. Only… it didn't look like he came under his own power, I noticed that even while I was yelling, "OH, SHIT!" and braking like a maniac, steering towards the side of the road, hoping to pass through a place where the guy had already been.

I missed him, though not by much, and I didn't wreck the car. I got stopped on the side of the road, and Rose leaped out, ran around to the guy, me right behind, Sunrise and Sh'rin having to fight the little backseat to get out, so being behind us.

"Mary, mother of god," Rose breathed as she knelt next to the guy. "What the hell happened to him?"

The poor guy was a wreck. Bruised almost as badly as Jerry had been when Rose and I beat him down the day we found out what he'd been doing to Kelly, had done to my parents, dozens of tiny cuts all over his exposed chest, stomach and arms, a few on his face— and blood oozing slowly from his mouth.

"He needs an ambulance," Rose said, reaching for her cell phone.

"Guys!" Sunrise yelled. "Problem!"

We turned to look— and two large, ugly demons come out of the corn field and ran towards us, making this ululating screaming sound as they ran.

Each one was brandishing a weapon that looked a lot like somebody had mated a two-man tree saw with one of those Klingon weapons from Star Trek: the Next Generation— a bat'leth, they called it.

The things were seven or so feet long, with the serrated metal blade mounted on a metal pole, with many spaces cut out of the blade so that the wielder could grip it in one (or two) of many places. The blade was about four inches wide for most of its length, narrowing down at each end to meet the pole-handle-thing.

"Sunrise, Sh'rin, get the guy out of the road— no time to be careful of broken bones, do it!" Rose said— and she grinned sideways at me. "Unarmed us, heavily armed demons.

"They're in for a bad night!"


	46. Chapter 46

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 46

_Rose:_

Since a pair of ugly demons with uglier weapons wanted the guy we almost hit with Elaine's car dead, I decided that he had to live. I'm contrary that way.

The demons were big— almost seven feet tall, thick, heavy bodies— and butt-ugly. Rough hides like an alligator's, medium-to-dark blue in color, legs jointed the wrong way at the knees, long arms (not good, when coupled with long weapons), slightly oversized heads that looked sort of like what you might get if you crossed a gorilla and the hunting bird of your choice. Almost beak-like lower faces, the heavy upper face of a gorilla— not even a mother could love these things.

They charged— and I grinned. Big, heavy, ponderous things should not charge small, agile, nimble things. I dove into the lower legs of the one coming at me, tucked into a tight ball and rolled on through as it fell to the pavement with another of those warbling screams.

Its weapon skittered across the pavement as I stood and leaped into the air, landed on the thing's back with both feet, fell forward deliberately with my hands extended and fisted.

It didn't notice me, so far as I can tell— it just started getting slowly to its feet. I hopped off of its back and ran to get the thing's weapon, cussing as I went. Elaine was laughing behind me, so I didn't worry about her, just ran for that funky saw-edged whatsit.

I grabbed the weapon, turned around— and saw the thing pull a claw from its own left hand, spit on it, and throw the two-inch long thing towards the car.

"Bad idea, shithead!" I yelled, and it turned to face me.

"You have lost, Slayer," it said in a surprisingly high-pitched and pleasant voice. "Kill me if you can— we still have our sacrifice!"

Then it charged at me. Again. _Stupid_ demon.

I took its head off with its own weirdo weapon, swinging the blade by the handle nearest one end, both of my hands fitting in the space meant for one of its hands.

"Idiot!" I said as it fell to the road— and started turning to ooze, ooze that seemed to be evaporating almost as fast as it formed.

The last of the ooze from Elaine's target was almost gone— and Elaine was by Sunrise and Sh'rin, trying to help Sunrise hold down the poor guy, who seemed to be having a seizure of some sort. Sh'rin had her purse out, was mixing things together from her little herbal medicine kit, muttering in Cheyenne and Chinese while she did so.

I saw the demon's claw in the guy's side, and understood. It's saliva was poison, and it had spat on the claw it tossed at the victim. But… why not just do that in the first freaking place?

Sh'rin poured something into his mouth even as I dropped beside them, clamped his jaw shut and stroked his throat to make him swallow. Almost immediately, he stopped thrashing so much— but not completely.

"Should we get him to a hospital?" Elaine asked.

"They could not help," Sh'rin said. "I have not cured, only… pushed back. He needs magic. He needs Willow— or he will die."

"Get him in the car," I said. "Passenger's seat front— I'll get in back with you guys. I know it'll be cramped, but there's not much choice."

"No choice," Sh'rin said. "I do not know if he will live to home, even."

While the others manhandled our charge into the car I turned around to grab the demon's weapons, found them turning to a glittering sand.

"Tidy and civilized demons," I muttered as I turned to get into the back seat of the car with Sh'rin and Sunrise. "Who'd have thought it, as pissy as they were?"

As Elaine drove for home, making the best speed the little car would do down Towanda-Barnes Road, I pulled my cell phone out and called home. Giles answered, and I wasted no time.

"Giles, this is Rose," I said. "We're headed home early— weirdness happened, and we've got a wounded man with us, beaten, bloody and poisoned by a demon. Sh'rin gave him something that will stave off the effects of the poison, but she says he needs Willow and magic for a cure."

"Describe the demon, please," Giles said, and I did. He muttered a curse, then said, "I recognize the breed. Urtulal. Their saliva is very poisonous— I'll get Willow to work on the needed spell immediately."

"Thanks, Giles," I said. "And… listen, one of them said that I'd lost, that they would still have their sacrifice— and it knew I was a Slayer."

"Bloody hell," he said. "I'll start hunting for references immediately, Rose, thank you."

"No problem," I said. "Be there soon— Elaine's driving like Mom."

"Dear me, I hope you all survive," he said. "Good bye, Rose."

Willow— hurt, still, but recovering slowly— stood waiting for us in the driveway. She yanked open the passenger's side door of the Bug as soon as the car stopped, dropped a paper plate with a magic circle of some kind drawn on it on the guy's chest, poured a bowl of some minty-sweet smelling stuff down his throat, and put her hands on him, one on the plate on his chest, one on his forehead. She chanted briefly, in that loud, reverberating, serious-magic voice she had when she did the heavy mojo, her hands pulsed— and the guy lit up with a brilliant white light for a long moment, so bright that it left spots in my eyes.

When the light faded, the guy was breathing easily, his spasms had stopped, and he seemed merely asleep.

"Good job, red," Xander said from behind her. "He'll be all right now, right?"

"He'll be fine," Willow said, gulping air a little hard. "All thanks to Sh'rin— and Dawnie."

"Huh?" Sunrise said. "I didn't do anything, though. It was all Sh'rin. Okay, and Rose and Elaine fighting off the uglies."

"Dawn, this poor guy was nearly dead," Willow said. "Sh'rin's palliative, that helped a lot— but if I'd had to stop and draw the circle on his chest for the spell… I really don't think he'd have made it. But I didn't have to do that, because I had time to pre-draw it on the paper plate I used.

"And that idea I got from you and your Frisbee-circle the night that Whitey got kidnapped. So… you helped save his life."

"Oh," Sunrise said, blinking. Then she looked pleased, and smiled at Willow. "Thanks, Wil."

"Says the girl I should be thanking," Willow said. "Okay, I'm gonna float our guest inside."

Willow lifted him telekinetically, looked at the bloody mess on the seat of the Beetle, and made a tsk-ing noise, waved a negligent hand, made it vanish.

"Thanks, Willow," Elaine said.

"No problem," she said. "A good deed shouldn't be punished with ruined upholstery."

Xander went ahead of us, opened the door for Willow. She took the rescued guy into the living room, put him on the couch, and said, "Okay… Sh'rin, can you do anything about his cuts and stuff?"

"We can help," Sh'rin said. "Dawn, I will check for deep hurts and broken bones. You care for his cuts."

"Understood," Sunrise said— and pulled an herbal kit from her own purse, started mixing things swiftly and confidently.

"Wow, Dawn, I didn't know you'd learned so much," Xander said, pride almost dripping from his voice. "I guess… well, nobody's been hurt physically, really, for a while— so I guess you haven't had to use the stuff— but it's good to know you can."

"Yes, it is," Sunrise said. "It's what we do. We defend. We care for the things we can't defend against. That's the job— and boy, do I like it!"

Giles and the others had come in— the others being everyone who wasn't Nancy or one of the dorm-Slayers— and stood watching as Sunrise moved with the same sure speed as Sh'rin, daubing a thick green paste on the wounds of their patient, even as Sh'rin checked for broken bones and internal injuries.

"Loosened teeth," Sh'rin said, finishing her examination. "Two on the left side. Past that, no internal hurts. Lucky, lucky man."

"Can he be woken?" Giles asked. "Is it safe?"

"Yes, it would be safe," Sh'rin said. "But first— and it will not take long— Willow, could you lift him, turn him that Dawn may treat the wounds on his back?"

"Okey doke." Willow gestured, and the man flipped slowly. "There you go, Dawn."

There were fewer wounds on the man's back, and it didn't take Dawn long to treat them. Once she sat back and cleaned up her mess, Willow whispered a word and waved two fingers— and the guy came awake with a jerk.

"What the— where am I?" he said. Before anyone could even answer, he turned and sat up with a jerk, cried, "The girl! She's— the monsters! We have to save her!"

"Easy, now," Sunrise said, laying a hand on his arm. "You're safe— and we'll help the girl. Just… tell us what happened. We'll help."

The guy looked at Sunrise, really looked— and I saw his appreciation for what he saw.

Then I saw him put it aside, and put his mind on the girl he'd mentioned, even while Sunrise and Sh'rin were appreciating what they saw.

He was handsome, I guess— not movie star handsome, but… friendly handsome. Like Xander. He looked like he smiled a lot, and even I could appreciate his body, which was lean, sculpted and well-cared for— if you ignored the bruises and cuts, anyway— and lightly tanned. Standing, he was probably five-eleven or so. His hair, long and pony-tailed, was black, faded to brown here and there by the sun, and fairly straight, with just a little bit of waviness. His eyes were a deep green, and his mouth— you could tell he spent a lot of time smiling. He had high, sharply defined cheekbones, and a decent jaw-line, noticeable, but not jutting. Handsome, in a friendly, casual way, and probably twenty-one or -two.

"I'm… not sure how I got here, but no matter." He shook his head, hard, as though to clear it. "I was coming towards Bloomington from Arrowsmith, little town east of there, and it got late so I decided to camp. I found a good spot in a patch of woods, by a stream, set up camp, and was just getting ready to grab a swim when I heard a girl… not scream, not really, but cry out. Sounded scared, and not too far off. So… I went to see, followed the sound, or hoped I was following it. Then I heard other sounds, freaky voices, all… wrong-sounding. And then one of the voices said, 'Prepare the sacrifice, begin the ritual of cleansing.'

"That freaked me out— I thought I'd stumbled on something like Satan worshippers, or maybe Wiccans gone seriously wrong, pagans… I don't know. I went closer and I saw… you won't believe this, but I swear to you, there were about a dozen monsters. I don't know any other word for them! All various shades of blue, and—"

"Alligator hides, apes-with-beaks faces, backwards bent knees, long arms," I said. "We believe— go on."

"Oooooooh-kay, then," he said, after staring for a second. "I started creeping closer, and… and I saw the girl. Not real old, twelve, maybe thirteen. Cute little thing, gonna break hearts someday. She asked why the monsters wanted to hurt her, and the one that seemed to be in charge— so blue he's almost black, you know?— said, 'You are the sixth daughter of the sixth daughter of a sixth daughter, and a Slayer. You will open the passage. You are beyond price.' So I—"

"Bloody hell!" Giles said, going pale. "Can you tell us where? Now? The rest— no. Wait. Not before one in the morning, and it's only nine-thirty. Continue— we have time."

"Ooooh-kay," the guy said again, looking askance at Giles. "Not much left to tell. I tried to get around to the other side of the clearing where these things were, to get to where I could maybe untie the kid and get her out— and one of them caught me. They… beat me. I never got a lick in, damn it, the first one nailed me too hard, I couldn't even see straight. Then they started… well, they hurt me— thanks for taking care of me, I'm sorry, I should have said that a while ago— and kept asking who I'd told that they were there. They kept asking if 'the Slayers' knew where they were, and I kept saying I didn't know until… I guess they finally believed me. I remember the in-charge one saying, 'End him. Make it look like a human accident,' and then… here I am.

"So… what the heck did I fall into?"

"I'm afraid that's a bit of a long story, sir," Giles said. "And we have preparations to make, if we're to save the girl and stop the ritual."

"So… what, you're going to take five guys— I'm going!— a few women and some girls up against monsters?" the guy said. "Pardon me for sounding skeptical, but those things are strong— and they're _monsters_."

"Demons, actually," Giles said, sounding distracted. "Sara? Demonstrate, please, you're the smallest."

Sara, twelve years old and little, went to fireplace against one wall, picked up a poker, took it to the guy, handed it to him.

"Bend it," she said, when he looked at her curiously.

"I don't think I can," he said. "But… okay, I'm game."

He took the poker— a heavy one, made of high-grade steel— in both hands, and started trying to bend it.

Corded muscles leapt up into sharp relief on his arms, chest and shoulders, and I heard Sunrise take a little sharp breath in appreciation, even as Sara, Sh'rin, Laurie, Elaine and (I admit it) even I did the same. He went from nice looking to _very_ nice looking, just that fast.

He did bend it, just a little, and he looked happily surprised to have done so.

"Wow, I'm stronger than I thought," he said, handing the poker back to Sara. "Now what?"

Sara didn't answer with words. She just took the poker and bent it back the other way, doing it casually, and with only a little grunt of effort. She stopped when it was bent at a ninety degree angle, and handed it back to our guest.

"They're demons, sure," Sara said as they guy looked at her with amazement— and no little delight. "But we're Slayers, some of us, fighters all of us. Killing demons? That's our _job_."

"Wow," he said. He looked around at us with a new look on his face, a respectful look, and said, "Okay, so… when do we leave?"

I decided right then and there that I liked him.

"I think in an hour," Giles said. "A bit of research, weapons selection— and perhaps introductions would be in order?"

"Yow, okay, sorry." Our guest stood up, looked around and said, "Okay, not sure who should start— no protocol for being rescued from demons by professional Demon Slayers, not that Emily Post ever mentioned— so I'll do it.

"I'm Ballard Innes, and I'm pleased to meet all of you— and damned grateful for my life. Thank you."

"Oh, good," I said. "Another Irishman, I approve. But… Ballard? What's your middle name?"

"That is my middle name," he said, wincing. "One of them. My first and first middle names are… unspeakable."

"I feel your pain," Whitey said. "I'm Whitelaw Penobscot— call me Whitey. I'm not a Slayer, or anything— only girls can be Slayers— I'm a Watcher. Watchers train Slayers, play support team. Rupert Giles— call him Giles— over there is the head Watcher. Kelly Riley, the black haired lady, is the newest Watcher, and Xander Harris— wave, Xander— is one, too, even though he keeps trying to dodge the title.

"Super-moose over there is Vincent Chandler, he's not really a Watcher, but that's mostly because he hasn't asked to be one, yet. He's a super-soldier, and no, I'm not joking. He's capable of doing a lot of things no human can do… including the ability to purr."

"Purr?" Ballard asked. "Damn— that's cool!"

"Thank you," Vincent said. "It is… very satisfying."

"The redhead in the dress, there, is Willow Rosenberg," Whitey continued. "She's a witch— for real, serious magical oomph, but on the side of the good guys. She cleared some demon poison out of your system, saved your life."

"Miss Rosenberg, thank you," Ballard said, shaking her hand, almost bowing over it.

"You're welcome," Willow said brightly. "Anytime. And I'm Willow."

"Then we come to the other girls who saved you," Whitey said. "The tiny little redhead, there, is Rose Killian, Kelly's daughter, and second in command of the actual Slayers. She's also a kung fu instructor and a goddess with a sword.

"Her girlfriend, the black-haired girl holding her hand, is Elaine Marshall— I haven't heard the whole story yet, but I'd bet that she and Rose fought off the demons that were trying to kill you."

"We did," I said, as Ballard shook my hand warmly. "No big— they weren't as scary as their weapons were."

"The brown-haired girl with the smile is Dawn Summers, Watcher-in-training, and full-fledged Guardian— a group with parallel aims to the Watchers, but some different methods," Whitey said. "And the black-haired girl with the gorgeous complexion is her girlfriend, Sh'rin— head Guardian, healer, swordswoman, and time traveler. She came from several thousand years ago to re-establish the Guardians."

"I'm betting you two are why I hurt a lot less than I did," Ballard said, shaking first Sunrise's hand, then Sh'rin's. "Thank you, both of you. Very much."

"You're welcome," Sunrise said, and smiled at him. "My first patient— glad I did it right."

"Me, too," Ballard said.

"You are very welcome," Sh'rin said. "One who would attempt to help a stranger against demons… to heal you is a pleasure."

"Let's see," Whitey said. "Ah, yes— the blond pixie with the curls over there next to Kelly is Kelly's other daughter and Rose's sister, Laurie. She's started her Watcher training already, and will probably soon start her Guardian training. Bright as hell, her— don't let the cute fool you.

"And now, we're down to the remaining Slayers in the house. The tall blond curled up with Vincent is his girlfriend, Vivian, who also teaches math to some of the other students. The little brownie who wowed you with the poker is Sara. The girl with the cane is Brianne— and yes, she's blind, but that doesn't seem to slow her down. The little blond limpet clinging to my side is my wife, Chantelle.

"And that leaves… Buffy Summers. Dawn's older sister, Prime Slayer, first in the chain of Slayer command."

(I should mention; more reason to like Ballard. Chantelle looks fourteen, maybe fifteen, Whitey looks thirty-plus— younger than the thirty-five he looked when he first came here, but a little over his actual thirty— and Ballard never gave them more than a nod and a smile, no scandalized look, no 'you dirty old man' glare, nothing. Add in that there'd been no gawping at us lesbian and bisexual-but-in-love-with-a-girl girls, and… I liked.)

Buffy came and shook Ballard's hand, and he smiled and said, "You know, in your line of work, I'll bet looking small and harmless is very useful."

"It has its moments," Buffy agreed, and grinned at him. "So… what do you do for a living, Ballard?"

"Uh, whatever's available," he said. "I'm… I wander. So… professional vagabond, I guess."

"How'd you get into that?" Buffy asked, grinning to take any possible sting out of her words. "Kind of sounds like fun."

"Um… well, that's a bit… it's not really unbelievable, I guess— not to you folks at least, I mean, well— I keep expecting to wake up, you know?— but it's odd," Ballard said. "Even I admit it's odd, and it's my story."

"Ballard, may I point out that you're talking to a professional vampire Slayer?" Buffy said. "Odd…? Mister, I guarantee, I have you beat on odd."

Ballard blinked at her, then nodded slowly. "Okay, but… preparations?"

"Giles is on it," Buffy said. "The rest is just weapons selection. And… Xander, think you could loan Ballard a shirt? I think Dawn, Sh'rin, Sara and Laurie are about to have their eyes fall out."

"I can do that," Xander said, and trotted upstairs while Ballard blushed, and the girls Buffy mentioned made a point of looking everywhere but at Ballard.

"The rest of you… weapon up, then we can listen to Ballard's little tale in confidence of not losing time," Buffy said. "Giles, anything we need to know about weapons choices?"

"Blunt weapons are not a good idea," Giles said, not looking up from the book he was looking at. "Edges are best, points will do."

"You heard the man," Buffy said. "We need a volunteer to stay here and keep an eye on things. Laurie? You game? With Nancy right next door, you should be okay."

"And Chantelle," Whitey said. "No pregnant women allowed tonight, sorry, honey."

"I'll stay with Laurie and Chantelle," Kelly said. "I'm not confident enough to go wading into a fight yet, Buffy."

"Knowing your limits is good," Buffy said. "Okay, you three have home guard. The rest of you— basement. Weapons.

"Ballard, are you sure you want to go? Sh'rin said you're okay, but you looked pretty banged up."

"I'm in," Ballard said. "I started this— I want to finish it."

"Then we'll loan you a weapon, as well as the shirt Xander's about to toss at you," Buffy said. Ballard turned, caught the plain white T-shirt Xander tossed him, pulled it on. "Come on— I'll show you our armory. Then you tell us how you got into professional vagabonding."

I went up to my room to get my sword, while the others trooped downstairs to get their weapons, but I ran, so I got there in time to see Ballard staring at the walls of the martial arts training room with something that looked a lot like awe.

Everyone loaded up (Elaine grabbed a long spear with a broad metal head, as opposed to her usual wooden spear for staking vamps), and Buffy looked at Ballard.

"See anything that strikes your fancy?" she asked, amused by the look on his face.

"Can I take one of everything?" he asked. "Damn, this is a lot of weapons!"

"You can try to carry that much, but you may fall behind," Buffy said, amused.

"Okay, then… I'll settle for these," Ballard said, and went to a pair of Chinese butterfly swords that hung on the wall, took them down with a grin of appreciation.

(Note to readers: I said, "butterfly _swords"_— not "butterfly _knives."_ I'm not talking about the little, often flimsy, flip-flop-opening knives that everybody seems to think are so cool for some reason. [And the proper name for those is "balisong," anyway.] I'm talking about Chinese butterfly swords— short swords, about the length of the average male forearm, including the hilt, with broad, heavy blades, usually single edged and coming to a curved point, like these did. Google them, if you want a look.)

"Do you know how to— never mind," Buffy said.

She'd been going to ask if Ballard knew how to use them, but he was already working them, swinging and spinning in intricate patterns, nothing I'd seen before— but definitely useful.

Buffy found the sheathes for them while he played for a minute, handed them to him when he stopped, and he put the blades in them, clipped them to his belt at the middle of his back, and grinned.

"I like a well-armed household," he said as we all went back upstairs.

Once we'd all returned to the living room, Buffy grinned at him, and said, "Okay, Ballard— tell us how you get to be a vagabond."

He told us, and while it wasn't as weird and freaky as Vincent's story, it _was_ pretty darned cool.


	47. Chapter 47

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 47

_Elaine:_

Ballard was… cool. I liked that he never, ever reacted negatively to any of the relationships in the house— not me and Rose, not Sunrise and Sh'rin, not Whitey and Chantelle, none of them.

His story made me like him more.

"I think I'll just get the ugly part out of the way first," he said. "Because if you check me out at all— and you're going to, I know you're that smart— you'll find it anyway."

We all looked at him oddly, none of us sensing any danger or ugliness from him. His next words explained the ugliness he was talking about, and that his parents were the source of the ugly, not him.

"My full name is Cecil Aloysius Ballard Innes… the fourth," he said in mournful tones. (Whitey looked very sympathetic of that mournfulness!) "I beg of you, forget the first two names!

"My parents… filthy rich. Ugly filthy rich, the sort of thing where my dad's in the top twenty richest men on earth, right around number fifteen, the last time I heard— but that's been a while.

"I was a huge disappointment to my dad, but that's okay, my younger brother makes up for me, I guess— he's a business-shark-in-training.

"Me… I never cared about money. Oh, sure, the huge house was nice, the travel even better, and I always had cool toys… but that was never a big deal to me. I preferred books to toys."

(I swear, Giles's ears actually _pricked up_ when Ballard said that!)

"My parents indulged me on that— and most other things. I had literally thousands of books— which I was careful to give to a library before I left, never throw out a book!— and I read incessantly."

(Giles was now visibly torn between research and giving Ballard his full attention.)

"I read most anything— no westerns, not my thing, and no romance novels," Ballard continued. "Other than that? Not picky, just addicted to the printed word. But I did have favorites… anything with a hero in it. Not just a protagonist, a _hero_— the man or woman who did right because it was right, and didn't need a reason past that. I loved that sort of thing— still do. I read everything I could find with heroes in it, even comic books and graphic novels. Still do, when I can find an understanding bookstore, or a library, and the time.

"At sixteen, I first horrified my father. I went out and got a part time job. I went to work for McDonald's, working the fryer three nights a week, and Saturday afternoon and evening. Dad… freaked. Yelled. Said if I wanted a job I could work in the mail room of his company. But I didn't want that. I wanted…."

Ballard stopped and thought for a minute, and we let him.

"I wanted a humble beginning," he said after a moment. "I know how that sounds— like the crazy, romantic notion of a kid who wants to be a hero. To tell the truth, that's exactly what it was.

"I took the bus to and from work, never drove the Ferrari Dad gave me for my sixteenth except to school on days I didn't work and to go run around on Sundays, when I had them off.

"He couldn't grasp that I didn't want his money. I didn't— don't— want to be rich. I'm not… not wired that way.

"So… I worked at Mickey Dee's, and I saved up about ten thousand bucks over the two years I was there.

"I turned eighteen on September the nineteenth of the year two thousand— I'm twenty-one soon, hurray for me— and that day I went shopping, spending only from my own accounts. I bought clothes, jeans and outdoorsy stuff mostly, not too much of anything, a good camper's backpack, and a tent and sleeping bag. I even bought some camper's meals.

"Then I went to my bank, took the rest of my money in cash— no traveler's checks, Dad might be able to trace those— and I went home and packed. I waited until Dad came home, then I told him and Mom and my brother and sister goodbye, let Dad rant for a while— and I left.

"I took a bus to as close to the edge of New York City as I could get, and I started walking west. I never have been back there….

"So… there I was. Eighteen years old, thirty or so pounds overweight, soft, no idea about the real world— but determined to make a… a hero out of myself. To wander around until I found what I needed to find. To learn everything I could about everything useful, everything a hero might need to know.

"For the first year, I mostly worked on the body, and kept wandering. I dropped the weight pretty fast, then started conditioning. Once I had the body I wanted, I started… I looked for martial arts teachers with a sense of… kindness? I guess? Guys who'd teach me for a week or two, no strings attached. I'd work, wherever I was, at whatever I could find. Most times, most cities, I found a place, a teacher. I learned a lot.

"It was in Miami that I found my art— it was just short of a year and a half from the time I'd left home. I stayed there a year, learning all I could, working for my teacher, taking room, board and lessons as payment. I loved it— until Dad's goons showed up, proved right my suspicions that he was looking for me, wanting to drag me back to New York."

"But— how could he?" Sunrise asked. "You're over eighteen, how could he make you?"

"Miss Summers—" Ballard started.

"Dawn," she corrected.

"Dawn, thank you," Ballard said. "Dawn… he could make me. Or make it hell for me if I didn't come home. Never underestimate the power of the dark side, Dawn— a power sometimes known as billions of dollars."

"Oh," she said. "Sorry, I forgot— you don't feel rich at all."

"A high compliment, and I thank you," Ballard said. "Anyway, his goons found me— not sure how— but I'd planned for that. My teacher helped me get out of town, sent me to Columbus to study more. I stayed until a month or so ago— and they found me again. So I bailed again, aiming to head for Sacramento, California, and another school. No bus, not this time, I think that's how they found me last time. I decided to just . . .walk and hitch it. No hurry. I'll get there when I'm meant to.

"Then… well, here I am."

"Vagabond," Buffy said. "I like it. And Ballard… geeky origins and all, I like what you're doing. Kwai Chang Innes."

He laughed, and it was a good laugh— the real kind, and I got this feeling that he laughed easily and often.

"That's me," he agreed. "God, I loved Kung Fu— awesome show.

"Anyway… yeah. I don't know if I managed to make myself into a hero or not— but I know that I'm happy with what I've made me. I… I found me. I found who I am, and I'm pretty happy with the guy."

"A guy who tries to get a girl he doesn't even know away from a dozen big, ugly monsters the likes of which he's never even seen before?" Xander said. "I have news for you, Ballard— you've got a _right_ to be pretty happy with that guy."

"I'll be happier when she's safe," Ballard said. "So… what's left to do?"

"Very little, I think," Giles said, not looking up from his book. "There are a couple of more things that I need to check before we leave, but I believe I'm not going to find anything— there are too many possibilities, I fear."

"What are they likely to be trying to do?" Ballard asked.

"Nothing good," Willow said. She looked worried, but not grim, as she continued. "Ballard… numbers have power. Anything that involves sacrificing the sixth daughter of a sixth daughter of a sixth daughter? And a Slayer? That's a number that packs a wallop. So whatever it is that they're doing, it's mondo bad. We're talking about the magical equivalent of… well, the World Trade Center disaster. At least."

"Blood and ancestors," Ballard said. "That's… whoa. Okay. No mistakes allowed, got it. Uh… crap. My CD player is back at camp. Okay. I'll have to hope I'm better than I think."

"CD player… huh?" Buffy said, looking blank.

"I need music," Ballard said, blushing a little. "I've never… never fought for real. I want the music to keep me solid."

"I'm lost, now," Buffy said. "Can you explain this a little more?"

"It's Capoeira, isn't it?" Whitey said suddenly. "You 'found your art' in Miami— it's Capoeira!"

"Right in one," Ballard said, still blushing— but looking relieved that someone understood. "Like I said… I've never used it for real, and this is important— I want the music to keep me in the groove."

"Capoeira is a Brazilian martial art," Whitey explained for Ballard. "It's rooted in dance and acrobatics. They do it to music, use the beat to keep them… steady, I guess."

Buffy looked at the clock, saw that it was only quarter after ten, and said, "I have to see this. Can you show us? Back on the patio, maybe?"

"I'll get my boombox," Sunrise said, and ran upstairs, before Ballard even had a chance to say yes.

I was grinning from ear to ear, I know— a martial art based around _dance!_ Oh, I had to see such a heavenly thing!

Sunrise came back down, and we all trooped out onto the back patio, Sunrise carrying her portable stereo, Ballard looking a little nervous. Once we were out there, he accepted the boombox from Sunrise, set it down, turned the radio on, and fiddled with it for a couple of minutes, spinning through stations— then stopped on an oldies rock station, which was just starting Gimme Some Lovin' by the Spencer Davis Group. Ballard grinned— and then he _moved_.

It started with this odd-but-pretty back-and-forth, side-to-side step, with him bent forward at the waist at about forty-five degrees. Then it became freaking _awesome_.

Moving always, _always_ with the beat of the song, Ballard started a series of spinning kicks, some looking like crescent kicks from karate, others more like round and back-round kicks, and most of those performed with the torso bent towards the ground, sometimes with a hand brushing for stability, usually not.

He added punches, wide, sweeping backfists and forward punches, but mostly it was kicks— until he started getting all acrobatic.

He cartwheeled into a huge, double kick that I knew would knock down even something as big and nasty as the demons we'd fought earlier that night. Coming out of that, he did a back aerial, rolled into a back handspring, thrust both feet up in a kick that no sane opponent could have expected, pushed on up into a handstand, then lifted his right hand, pivoted down and around on his left in a sweep the power of which you could not get without that kind of gravity assist— okay, or Slayer-muscles, but still!

He finished song and… kata? Form? Dance? He finished with a great big sweeping double kick that involved spinning in his little dance step twice, then throwing his head and torso down while first one foot then the other swept through the space where his imaginary opponent's head should have been.

He stopped, straightened up and grinned as the song ended— and I could see a love of dancing and martial arts both in that grin.

"Holy freaking _god,_ I want to learn that!" Sunrise said aloud— and that started a clamor of cheering and clapping.

Ballard blushed, but grinned, said, "There are schools in Champaign and Chicago— I spent a couple of days in Champaign, training and working out, before starting west again."

"Okay, you have the chops to pull your weight," Buffy said. "The music thing… well, we can go by your camp, get your CD player, on our way to the site."

"His camp may have been found, his stuff grabbed, if the demons were worried about being found or interrupted," Brianne said. "Better idea. I loan him my iPod, and we take a few to let him get some stuff on it he can dance to. I couldn't see what he was doing— but I heard you all making 'oo-ah' sounds, so it must have been cool. And if Buffy wants you along, Ballard, then so do I."

"I give you my word, Brianne, if something happens to your iPod, I will replace it— with a newer model," Giles said.

"I'll get it," Brianne said. "Sara, boot up the computer with iTunes on it, would you? Show Ballard how to work it, so he can get stuff he wants. Use my card— I don't mind, really."

"No, I think not," Giles said. "Or not if you won't let me replace anything you spend, Brianne."

"Giles, no fight's going to last more than five songs— that's five bucks," Brianne said. "To save a fellow Slayer? That's dirt cheap!"

"I'll replace it," Giles said firmly. "Now hush, and get your player."

We went in, Sara and Ballard to the library and computers while Bree went upstairs. Ten minutes later, Ballard had four songs he loved to work to on Bree's iPod, and was ready to go.

He almost danced as he came out, and he said, "I don't believe it! They had Paranaue— the traditional Capoeira song I learned to move to first, and they had a hip-hop version!

"I am going to just _smoke_ these damned demons!"

"Carefully, and remembering that they are, in fact, _demons_," Whitey said, thumping Ballard on the shoulder gently. "You're only human, guy— don't get cocky."

"Well, yeah, I see your point— but Whitey, that song— for me, there's nothing better for moving to." Ballard looked thoughtful, then said, "It's like walking into a test with the answers memorized. Or… like all of the sudden realizing that everything you ever needed to beat an opponent is in the very first kata you learned, the one you can do in your sleep!"

"Point taken," Whitey said. "Still— don't get stupid, guy. I like you. No dying."

"Back at you," Ballard said with a grin. "Okay— who's in charge, and what do I do?"

"Buffy is in charge, Rose her second," Giles said. "We should go to where you camped. We can scout from there, then Buffy can make firm plans. Do you remember how you got to where you camped?"

"Get me a map, I can show you where I approached from," Ballard said. "We drive the road, I can find where I went, even in the dark."

Ten minutes later, we were on the road, packed into the SUV and the one minivan we had left (Giles had sold the one that Kennedy had been driving when she was killed, and not replaced it yet— that one would have been haunted, to us). Twenty minutes after that, we were pulling to the edge of the road next to a little patch of woods— little by the road, at least, but it got wider as you went deeper into it.

"How far was your campsite from the place where the demons were?" Buffy asked.

"A hundred yards or so," Ballard said softly. "This patch is deeper and bigger than it looks."

"Okay, take us to your camp," Buffy said. "Quiet march, people."

Ballard led us into the woods, moving quietly, and soon we came to his camp— or what had been his camp. His clothes and things were strewn around the little twenty-foot clearing, the clothes shredded, the tent demolished, the sleeping bag's stuffing strewn all over the place— and Ballard's CD player, and several CDs were broken and smoldering in the remains of his fire.

"Dammit," he said. "Asshole monsters."

Then he got a look on his face, a hopeful look, and opened what was left of his tent. He rooted inside, pulled out a pair of white pants, a length of rope, and two short lengths of cloth. He held them up, smiled, and said, _"Obrigado, mestre."_

"Portuguese," Giles said in answer to Buffy's querying look. " 'Thank you, teacher.' "

"Give me just a minute, here," Ballard said. "Easier to move in these— and there's a psychological edge, too."

He stepped into the woods, and we heard rustling noises for a moment— then he stepped back out, moving… differently. He wore only the white pants, loose and easy to move in, gathered at the ankles with the two strips of cloth, belted with the length of cord, tied to one side, with two one-foot tails left over. He walked like he was dancing, now, and his back was straighter, his (big, muscular) shoulders square. The butterfly swords hung from his cord belt at the small of his back, Brianne's iPod hung near the front.

"Let's get this done," he said.

"Okay," Buffy said. "Here's the plan; Ballard leads until we hear them, then we all stop— and Sh'rin scouts. You're the stealthiest of us all by far, Sh'rin— hope you don't mind."

"I do not mind," she said. "And I will be careful."

"You read my mind," Buffy said. "You report back, and we back off a little plan from there."

Sh'rin disappeared into the woods without a sound as soon as we heard demon voices, high and chanting, and we backed off thirty or forty yards to wait for her. She came back soon enough that Sunrise didn't actually make her lip _actually_ bleed by biting it, just almost.

Sh'rin reported, Buffy thought, Buffy planned— and we went in there to get out one of our own.

_Rose:_

Dance fu. I swear, I thought Sunrise and Elaine were going to just plain tackle Ballard and tickle him until he was ready to teach them that Capoeira stuff. (And on a personal note, I wanted to spar him so badly that I could taste it!)

So Buffy made a plan— and I swear, she made it how she did just to let Ballard know he'd done his part.

"Okay, we need a distraction," Buffy said. "Something to draw all eyes away from the edges of the demons' clearing. Thoughts?"

"Let me handle it," Ballard said. "I go in tumbling, they can't hit me— not with surprise on my side. The clearing— not huge, what, fifty feet? And Sh'rin, you're sure the girl's straight opposite the entrance I'd come from?"

"Directly opposite, yes," Sh'rin said.

Buffy looked thoughtful, said, "Ballard… you are good. Your style? I've never seen anything like it…."

"It's very unlike anything I've seen," Giles said. "Although I seem to recall that a Slayer from Rio De Janeiro in the… thirties, I believe, used the art."

"Ballard… bullshit me not," Buffy said. "Can you get to the center of that clearing and avoid being hit for maybe ten seconds?"

"I can," Ballard said. He looked determined— but thoughtful. He meant what he said, you could tell. "Ten seconds? Yes. I'll go super-defensive, and play the faster version of Paranaue that I got. Should do the trick."

"Okay, Wil," Buffy said. "They've got a sorcerer type— lunch for you. Keep him from killing Ballard, please. And, you know, the rest of us, too.

"So… Rose, Elaine, you're on the girl— we call her twelve o'clock. You get to her, keep her safe— Ballard, once we get in the clearing, you help Rose and Elaine by getting the girl free, and turning her over to Dawn and Giles for extraction – you two come in from ten o'clock. Sh'rin, Sara, you cover them, make sure their backs sprout no knives, and come in from nine o'clock.

"Brianne, you and me are back-to-back at four o'clock— that's worked great in practice. Vivian and Whitey, you come in from eight o'clock. Xander and Vincent, you're free safeties— you go where people need help, wade in, make ooze. Vincent, this is a good time for you to get all kitty-claw-happy."

"Orders received," Vincent said, and grinned. "Objective understood."

"Gotcha, Buff," Xander said.

"Okay," Buffy said. "Everyone move to as close as you can get to where you come in from. Ballard… give us three minutes."

"And everyone do remember, the saliva of an Urtulal is deadly to humans," Giles added before he walked away. "Do not let them bite you— you be especially careful, Ballard."

"Got it," Ballard said— and started counting softly, "One chimpanzee, two chimpanzees, three chimpanzees…."

He moved through some basic stretches as he counted softly, Xander and Vincent watching him interestedly as Elaine and I moved off through the woods as quietly as we could.

Xander told us later that Ballard finished stretching, kept counting, then put the earbuds of the iPod in his ears, adjusted the clips that held them in place, then shook his head violently, trying to dislodged them. He looked pleased when he couldn't budge them, turned the iPod on, and kept counting.

At one hundred and sixty-five, fifteen seconds to the go point, he stopped counting and pressed play on the iPod. For a moment, he drummed a simple, quick beat softly on his own leg— then what Xander called "a Vincent-level smile" broke across Ballard's face, and he sang under his breath for a moment.

"Para nah way, para nah way, para nah," he sang quietly, moving to a crouch that left him sideways to the clearing. He then repeated it again— "Para nah way, para nah way, para nah!"— and leaped from that sideways crouch into a cartwheel, moving towards the clearing, came out of that cartwheel into a series of handsprings and whips, accelerating as he entered the clearing.

The first I saw of him, he was moving in handsprings still, whipping so fast that he caused the demons that he moved past to shout in alarm. At the middle of the clearing, two of the demons stood close together, and he bounced out of a handspring about five feet from them— and into this aerial spinning kick that had all of the speed he'd worked up with his handsprings behind it. It hit the nearer demon across its beaky jaw, sent it staggering sideways into its companion, blue-black blood streaming from its mouth.

Ballard hit the ground already moving in that funky little back-and-forth, side-to-side dance step, arms and torso pivoting counter to the movement of his feet— and singing, loudly and cheerfully.

"Para nah way, para nah way, para nah!" he sang in a very pleasant tenor voice, spinning and pivoting up onto one hand to lash out at another approaching demon, nailing this one in the chest, sending it staggering back.

All the demons in the clearing turned to come at him, and he bounced back into his basic dance step (called a ginga [pronounced "jinga"] we found out later), pivoted to where the incoming demons were about equidistant from him— and went acrobatically _insane!_

Look, I've watched gymnastics, Olympic gymnastics, and never seen some of the moves he did. Sure, the handsprings, cartwheels and back whips were familiar, but the funky one-hand-press that he turned into a cartwheel with a twist, his legs scissoring out to drive a pair of demons back? What the hell was that? And the sideways aerial with the legs spread, cocked at the knees, hands clutching the knees? Who thought of that? Who perfected that?

I have no idea— I just know that watching him was a damned fine treat, demons and all.

Then all the demons were facing inwards, moving towards Ballard, and Buffy and Brianne moved in, Bree holding onto the tail of Buffy's un-tucked shirt, Buffy with the Scythe in her hands. Elaine and I moved in, as did Viv and Whitey. Sh'rin and Sara came next, Dawn and Giles just behind them, all four moving our way.

The Urtulal realized what was happening when Buffy took off one's head with the Scythe— and it became a battle.

The darkest-colored of the Urtulal saw what was happening, and started to chant a spell, pointing at Ballard—

—Which is when Willow came drifting into the clearing— and the Urtulal screamed something in its language, turned to her, and ignored Ballard.

All to the good— Ballard started towards Elaine and I, where we stood between the demons and their intended sacrifice— whom they'd tied up in one of the few ways that would actually hold a Slayer without using chains. She stood between two metal poles that were taller than her by a couple of feet, and set deep in the ground. Her arms were behind her, crossed, and the wrists pulled up as high as the demons could get them, with ropes around her wrists going up to the tops of the poles. With her arms crossed and up like that, she could get no leverage to use her enhanced strength.

Giles and Dawn were working on the ropes— but the girl kept interfering, trying to get as far from Giles as she could— and making a low sound of terror every time he came close to her.

"Giles, switch with Sh'rin!" Dawn said. "She's scared of you!"

Giles made no comment, just did as he was told— and the girl stopped trying to fight off the help.

A demon came at me, lunging and roaring, no weapon in its hands, just some pretty nasty claws reaching for me. More were coming our way, but Buffy and Bree, moving back-to-back, were moving to intercept them, so I focused on the loser coming at me.

It reached, I slashed, it jerked back out of my reach. It reached again, I feinted, it pulled back— and I braced myself, sword out and aimed at its throat. It looked puzzled— and Vincent rammed his shoulder between the thing's shoulder blades, sent it plunging forward onto my blade. I twisted the blade, jerked it out of the thing's throat sideways, and it collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of its ruined throat. I glanced sideways, saw Elaine pull her spear out of one's gut, spin with the spear wrapped around her forearm, braced around the crook of her elbow, and slash its throat.

Ballard had arrived near us, was dancing around like a break-dancer on a mixture of speed and LSD, keeping his distance from the demons, drawing them closer as they marked him as the most tempting target, then dancing away, diving between me and Elaine, leading more targets to us.

Buffy and Bree followed, and Bree again earned the name the Guardians had for her— she did the Unexpected.

One of the demons coming at us had one of those freaky pole-blades that they loved so much, and it swung it my way by one end. I went under the blade, and it over-swung. One end of the weird weapon hit the ground right next to Bree's foot— and she _ran up the blade,_ drove her short sword into the demon's eye just before it jerked the blade up to dislodge her. By hanging onto her sword, she redirected the momentum it gave her to the side, instead of back— and Bree ended up on the thing's back, clinging with her free arm over its shoulder. She yanked sideways on the hilt of her sword— and it cut through the demon's upper beak, its other eye, and out the side of its head. It fell and she dropped off, shouting, "Marco!"

"Polo!" Buffy shouted from a couple of feet to Bree's left— and Bree sidled that way, non-sword hand out to feel for Buffy. A second later, they were back-to-back again, and taking on all comers.

Then I saw a demon— one of the last two— coming at Sh'rin with a shorter, serrated blade— and she had her back to it, was too far for me to reach her. I yelled her name, she spun, too late to stop the blade that was coming at her —

— and Ballard hit the ground on his hands a couple of feet from her, legs pressed together and out at an angle, shoved off the ground with his hands as his feet swung around, slammed his feet across the front of the demon's shoulder. It staggered backwards, and its blade missed Sh'rin's face by a couple of inches.

She slashed her own blade across the thing's stomach, opening it up and spilling its guts on the ground, and Ballard did this sort of corkscrew kick, drove it forward as she spun away and chopped at the back of its neck. The head fell to the ground— and it died.

I turned to see Vivian kill the last one by driving the naginata she was using into its guts so hard that punched out the back, then levering it up off the ground, holding it there until it stopped moving.

That ended it. Willow floated calmly over a pile of evaporating ooze where the sorcerer had been, Vincent and Xander stood behind Buffy and Bree, panting but grinning, and Giles and Sara stood watching the body of their last target dissolve.

Ballard, still moving in that ginga thing, whooped, sang "Para nah way, para nah way, para nah," one last time as he did this funky little series of gymnastics that ended with him braced on the ground on one hand, his legs scissored back over his head, his other holding his upper leg. He dropped out of it, bounced to his feet, shut off the iPod, and grinned at us all.

"Now that," he panted heavily, "was one hell of a trip!"

"You're insane," Buffy said, shaking her head at him— but grinning.

"And you saved Sh'rin's life, god, thank you, Ballard!" Sunrise said.

"You're perfectly welcome," he said. "Hey, she saved mine— what kind of a jerk would I have to be not to return the favor?"

"I do thank you, for myself as well as Dawn," Sh'rin said.

"Any time," Ballard said. He looked at the girl who stood half behind Sunrise, almost as though she were hiding, and said, "Hey, are you okay?"

"I— I— I think so," the girl stammered. She stepped partially out from behind Sunrise, revealing a body halfway between Sara's 'just starting to fill out,' and Chantelle's 'well on the way to filling out,' and looked closely at Ballard from deep blue eyes, pushing her very wavy brown hair out of her face. "I… you came _back!"_

"Of course I came back," Ballard said. "I'm sorry I screwed up the first try at getting you out of here, Miss. Are you really okay?"

"I… they _tortured_ you!" she cried, looking confused. "They tortured you, I saw it! They— why would you come back after they did… did that to you?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Ballard said softly. "And besides— I found help. I didn't have to come alone this time. No big deal."

"No big— that magic one, he hit you with freaking lightning!" the girl said. "And made things grow out of your skin! You— I thought— but you came back!"

"I'm okay," Ballard said. He made no move to go closer to her, having seen how scared she'd been of having Giles come near her, I guess. He hunkered down where he was, said, "Miss, really— I'm okay. Look at me. A little banged up, but… I'm okay."

"You… really?" she asked. "You swear you're really okay?"

"I swear," Ballard said. "So… are you ready to get out of here?"

"Yes!" the girl cried. "God, yes!"

We started back for the vehicles, Ballard on point, moving with light, almost-dancing steps, the rest of the men all at the front, as far as they could get from the girl, who walked with her arm around Sh'rin's waist, her other hand holding Sunrise's, her face pressed against Sunrise's arm— and the tiniest of smiles on her face, which didn't look like it wore that expression very often.

At the clearing where he'd been camped, Ballard stopped to grab the clothes he'd been wearing earlier, looked around at the rest of his things, shook his head and said, "No point in grabbing any of this. It's a write-off."

At the vehicles, all five guys piled into the minivan, as well as Vivian, Brianne and Buffy, and the rest of us went home in the SUV. Our rescued Slayer seemed to relax a lot with no men around, and the bad feeling I'd started to have when she'd shown fear of Giles jumped to a full-blown fury at whoever had hurt her.

Elaine drove, as the girl had attached herself to Sunrise and Sh'rin, and we hadn't gotten far when Sunrise asked, "What's your name, honey?"

"Linnea," the girl said softly. "Linnea Reardon." Then, more strongly, sounding a mix of angry and almost… sick, I guess, she said, "Never Lin. Never!"

"Where are you from, Linnea?" Sunrise asked.

"I… don't think I want to say," she said, biting her lip. Then her eyes went wide, and she almost _wailed,_ "I told you my name! You'll find out where I'm from, I shouldn't have— don't make me go back! _Please,_ don't make me go back there!"

"No, we won't, Linnea," Sunrise said softly. Her words and voice stayed soft— but her eyes darkened with the same fury I felt. "We won't, I promise."

"Swear it!" Linnea cried. "Swear it!"

"I swear, Linnea, we won't make you go back home," Sunrise said.

Just like that, Linnea started sobbing in relief— and she didn't stop until we were home.

Giles and the guys went in first, and spread themselves around the edges of the living room, well away from the couch at the center, and Linnea went to the couch with Sunrise and Sh'rin willingly, though she looked very nervous. Mom was there in the chair right next to the couch, and Chantelle had moved to stand with Whitey, but Laurie was gone to bed.

"Everything all right here?" Giles asked Mom.

"Just fine," Mom said. "Nancy let Abelena, Tracy, Helena and Jenna come over here, they're in the basement watching a movie in the rec room. The others are all asleep.

"So, will someone introduce me to our new Slayer?"

Sh'rin made the introductions, and she introduced everyone, identifying us as Slayers, Watchers or Guardians as appropriate, all as friends, and Ballard as "the insane-dancing fighter who told us how to find you."

It took very little to get Linnea started after the introductions. All that had to be done was for Mom to ask, "Linnea, Sh'rin said you don't want to go home, and since Dawn promised we won't send you there, we won't— we keep each other's promises and each other's secrets. But can you tell us why?"

"Because… b-b-because of Ron," Linnea said. "Mom's boyfriend. He— he makes m-me… makes me do things. Things with him. I c-can't go back. I can't! I'll k-k-kill myself if I go back th-th-there!"

"You'll never go back there again," Mom said. "Linnea, I swear to you, for all of us— we won't even tell him where you are.

"We'll protect you."

"What's his name?" Buffy asked. "Linnea… he might hurt someone else. Your sisters, maybe other girls. Maybe we can stop it, if you'll tell us his name, and where he lives."

"Ron Paganini," Linnea said. "He l-lives in Effingham, with m-my mother. My sisters… they… they…." She swallowed and said, her voice low and terrified, "The oldest two are… are gone. Ran away. Jenny and… and Samantha, they… they k-k-killed themselves... I think… I think Ron killed Angie, they said she ran away, but I think h-he kill— killed her."

"My god," Buffy said, her face caught somewhere between fury, nausea and horror. "Is he likely to hurt your mother?"

"N-n-no," Linnea said, shuddering violently. "She… knew. She knew and she d-d-didn't CARE! She _LET_ HIM! SHE'D _WATCH!"_

After those last screamed words, Linnea flung herself into Sunrise's arms like a girl half her age might have, wrapped her arms around Sunrise's neck, buried her face in her hair, and sobbed— or maybe screamed.

Everyone looked sick, me included. Sunrise didn't say a word, just stood up, holding Linnea cradled to her, and went upstairs, not saying a word. At the bottom of the stairs, she looked at Willow and tapped her temple. As Sunrise went up, I could see Willow's pupils expand a little, guessed that she was speaking to Sunrise mentally.

"Giles," Willow said after a moment, "Dawn thinks you should see if Diane Hodges is free yet, get her here if she is. That poor girl is… Dawn's scared for her."

"An excellent thought," Giles said in a hard voice. "Yes. I'll call now— if I wake her for this, she won't mind."

"Ballard," Buffy said, shaking herself and standing. "You need a place to sleep. We've got places to sleep. You helped us save one of our own. You are sleeping here. Argument will only result in us finding out if Slayer power can counter your Capoeira skills."

"Yes, ma'am," Ballard said meekly. He shook his head violently, said, "Well… maybe it's best this way. If I leave here, I'm heading for Effingham."

"We'll handle it," Xander assured him. "May take a day or two to figure out a way to handle it without having to reveal where Linnea is, but we'll handle it. That bastard goes down— and the mom with him."

"Yes," Mom said. "Ballard, you have to stay— because if you leave, I'm _driving_ you to Effingham."

"Come on, Ballard," Xander said. "I'll show you to your room— or let you choose which you want, we have a pair of empties, right now."

They went upstairs, and the rest of us sat silently for a few minutes, trying to wrap our heads around the fact that we wanted to kill a couple of supposedly-human beings more than we'd wanted to kill the Urtulal demons we'd fought.

Xander came down alone after a few minutes, said, "Ballard's grabbing a shower. I loaned him some stuff to wear— my old fat-guy shirts fit him. You don't realize how big his shoulders and chest are until you see him doing his stuff— my normal shirts would never do it, and I'm not small in the shoulders."

"No joke," Chantelle said. "I mean— Whitey, you know I love you, and that you are _the_ man for me— but that guy's chest and shoulders… if he wants to get a job as a male model, he could."

"Yes, dear," Whitey said. "But… what a fighter! He wasn't stupid, seriously non-stupid— he did what he was told, pulled his weight, stayed out of the way, didn't try to go all macho and do too much. I like him."

"He saved my life," Sh'rin said. "I cannot help but be fond of him. I would not want to if I could. He is… _t'go ren gul hile._ He… he walks his chosen path, and cares not for the hardships on the way— only stays on his path.

"And it is a good path."


	48. Chapter 48

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 48

_Elaine:_

Giles came out of the study, said, "Diane is on her way. She'll be here on the first flight into the airport in the morning— I'll fetch her here."

"Don't be silly, Giles," I said. "Slayers need less sleep— I'll go get her. What time?"

"Are you sure?" Giles asked.

"Very sure," I said. "What time do I need to be there?"

"The flight arrives at six-forty in the morning," Giles said. He looked at me closely. "You're quite certain?"

"I'm positive," I said. "I'll get her."

"Thank you, then," Giles said, and shook his head. "What a bloody mess. That poor girl… I really wish there was some way to make her mother and the woman's boyfriend pay the full price for their crimes without involving Linnea. But… it will be difficult, at best.

"On that note… Kelly, are you familiar with the things Whitey needs for procuring a false identity for the child?"

"I remember, yes," Kelly said. "I'll get the pictures and any personal details from her tomorrow."

"Whitey, will you…?" Giles asked.

"Of course," Whitey said. "I'll leave in the morning for Chicago, soon as Kelly gets the things I need. I'll need some cash, Giles— I'm going to switch to a different forger, so no one gets suspicious— I think I'll need thirty thousand."

"I'll get fifty thousand out for you before I go to bed," Giles said. He looked around, frowned a little, said, "Where has Ballard gotten to? He didn't leave, did he?"

"No, he's showering," Xander said. "I've put him in Whitey's old room.

"Giles… the guy lost everything he owned, pretty much. And he helped us get a Slayer out of trouble, helped us prevent some unknown nastiness… can we help him out?"

"Don't be silly," Giles said. "I've every intention of offering him a job, Xander."

"Seriously?" I said. Giles nodded, and I grinned. "Yes! Capoeira lessons!"

Kelly laughed, said, "Of course you want lessons in a dancing martial art."

"And I want to spar him!" Rose said. "I figure if I can learn to hit him? Demons, no problem— ever."

"Giles, may I make the offer?" Whitey said. "If you don't mind?"

"Of course, Whitey," Giles said. "You'll have to do it someday by yourself, in all likelihood, so you might as well start now."

We talked about nothing much for a few, and Ballard came trotting down in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt of Xander's, carrying his dirty clothes.

"Is there a washer I could use?" he asked when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "I'd like to have something clean to shop in, tomorrow."

"Of course," Kelly said. "In fact, give those to me— I have a load to do, I'll toss them in with it."

"Oh, I can get it," Ballard protested.

"Hush," Kelly said, and walked to him, took the clothes. "We're in your debt, Ballard— very in your debt, for helping us save one of ours. So I am doing this little bit of a payback. Rose will tell you, crossing me? Horrible idea."

"Truth," Rose said. "She cheats, won't fight fair. Wicked woman, my Mom."

"Okay," Ballard said. "Thank you, Ms. Riley."

"Kelly," she said. "And no more mister-miss-miz from you, either. You earned the right to call us by our first names before we ever met you."

"Yes, Kelly," Ballard said meekly.

"Better," Kelly said, and went off to the laundry room off of the back porch.

"Ballard, how are you fixed for cash?" Whitey asked. "Will you be able to replace your clothes?"

"Clothes, tent, sleeping bag," Ballard answered. He shrugged. "CD player and some CDs will have to wait— which reminds me, here, Brianne." He unclipped her iPod from his waist, handed it back to her, said, "Unharmed— they never even got close to me. Thanks for the loan— it helped a lot to have not just music, but _my_ music."

"Ballard, about the tent and sleeping bag," Whitey said. "Why don't you skip those?"

"Uh, I could skip the tent, I guess, but the bag? Necessary." Ballard sighed. "I loved that bag. Never saw another that rolled up so tight without losing its shape."

"Ballard… there's a perfectly good bedroom up there, with a perfectly good bed," Whitey said. "They're yours, if you want them— room and board is part of the salary, here."

"Part of the— are you offering me a job!" Ballard asked, eyes widening.

"Yes, I am," Whitey said. "Giles had the idea, and we all like it, I think."

"But… I don't know anything about the supernatural, or any of that," Ballard said. "And… well, I'm not sure I'm done with what I was trying to do yet."

"Are you insane!" Buffy asked. She stood, went to stand in front of Ballard, fists on her hips. "Ballard Innes, you said, not even two hours ago, that you— you 'set out to make a hero out of yourself.'

"Well, I don't know if you noticed, but you've succeeded. Completely. Beyond a doubt."

"If you have any doubts, tomorrow we can ask Linnea if you're a hero," I said. "I'll bet anything you want to bet that she says yes."

"_I_ say you are a hero," Sh'rin said. "I still live because you saved me. This is what a hero does."

"Since we love her," Rose said, popping up to kiss my cheek, "you're a hero to us, too. And to Sunrise— I don't even have to ask, I saw the look on her face."

"You were tortured, Ballard," Vivian said. "I heard what that girl said. You were tortured, not just hurt, like you said earlier. But you went back there anyway, were going to go back whether we helped you or not."

"Vivian is right," Vincent said. "You are brave. You are skilled. You use your skills as they should be used. You faced creatures who had tortured you. You are a hero."

"In this particular business, we need heroes," Xander said. "All we can get? Maybe not enough. But one more can only help."

"Xander is quite right," Giles said. "We need more help— we need your help.

"Will you accept the job?"

"I… yes!" Ballard said. He grinned hugely, said it again. "Yes! I accept!"

"Excellent!" I said— and Buffy hugged him.

Most of us hugged him. He grinned, hugged back, shook his head and grinned wider.

"I'm going to be a Watcher," he said. "That's… immeasurably cool."

"Yes, I'll advance you some money tomorrow," Giles said, "take it out of your salary over the first year. Five thousand dollars should allow you to outfit yourself completely— and Ballard, if you protest, I shall only let the others argue you around.

"I expect you to buy yourself a stereo, and I would recommend an iPod, for times when you must fight."

"They make a connecting cable, so you can run an iPod through a stereo," Brianne said. "You should get one, so you can train and teach to the music you love and know best."

"Don't buy a computer, though," I said. "Several in the house. If you want a laptop, Giles gets a discount because he's the head of a school."

"Just take a car tomorrow, get directions from the net, go get what you need," Whitey told him.

"Uh, might want to have someone drive me," Ballard said. "My license is expired, and I haven't driven in damn near three years."

"I'll take you," Xander said. "After breakfast, sometime, but before supper."

"Speaking of supper," Kelly said, "I'm cooking tomorrow night— Ballard, you deserve a welcome-to-the-Watcher's-Council dinner. Is there anything you'd like in particular?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Ballard said. Then he saw the look on Kelly's face, and wisely reversed directions. "But since you so kindly offer… I've been living and eating with people who practically live on Brazilian cuisine for a long time. I'd probably just about commit a crime for spaghetti and meatballs."

"Done deal," Kelly said. "And garlic bread. And meat sauce, as well as meatballs."

"Stop, I'm drooling," Ballard sighed. "Kelly… thanks.

"In fact, thank you— all of you. I never thought… well, thanks, that's all."

"You are quite welcome," Giles said. "Are there any questions you feel need answering immediately?"

"Uh, you said you'd advance me five thousand dollars against my first year's salary," Ballard said. "How much are you planning on paying me, anyway?"

"I've settled on a hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year for starting salaries," Giles said. "Before you protest, Ballard, may I remind you that we do face situations such as we faced tonight with… distressing frequency. You will also be responsible for dealing with over a dozen teen-and-younger girls on a daily basis."

"Well, okay," Ballard said. "So… Brianne's blind, though it sure as _hell_ doesn't interfere with her fighting— are there other girls who need special… consideration, I guess? Special training?"

"Ah, he's a natural," Whitey said, grinning. "Ballard, that's the best possible question you could have asked."

Rose and I sat and listened to people talk for quite a while. No one had come down enough from the battle to sleep yet, so when Abelena, Tracy and Helena came upstairs, we were all still there.

They called good night, and Kelly looked around, said, "Where's Jenna?"

"She came up to get a drink a couple of hours ago, never came back down," Tracy said. "She must have gotten tired and gone over to bed."

"Wait, were we back yet?" Xander said. "Or do you know?"

"Yeah, we heard everyone come in," Helena said. "She came up just a couple of minutes after that."

"Crap," Xander said. "Okay, good night, girls."

"Everything okay?" Helena asked.

"Probably, it's cool," Xander said. "We do have a new girl, and she's got some problems— we'll have Nancy talk to everyone tomorrow."

The girls left, and Xander went that way, too, to get a drink or something, I thought. But he came back at a run a couple of minutes later.

"Giles, one of the sedans is gone," Xander said. "I think Jenna heard what Linnea said— and given her own history— Giles, I'm afraid she may have gone after Linnea's mom and her bastard of a boyfriend."

"Bloody hell!" Giles said. "How far off is Effingham, does anyone know?"

"It's about two hours south and east of here," Kelly said. "Giles… it's probably too late."

"Damn it!" he said. "I should have—"

"Should have what, read her mind?" Buffy said. "Giles, no. You couldn't have done anything."

"I'll go after her, perhaps I can get to her before she does anything rash," Giles said, standing.

"Rupert, no," Kelly said. She looked sad and hurt, but she shook her head anyway. "It's too late— you'll not change a thing. If Jenna went there to hurt anyone, you can't stop her— she won't wait, she'll do it as soon as she gets there."

"Call her cell," Rose said. "She might answer."

Giles tried that, but Jenna either didn't have her cell phone with her, or she'd turned it off— the call went straight to voice mail.

Giles shook his head in disgust, then said, "All right— I'm going to wait up for her. Everyone else, off to bed."

"The hell you say, Rupert Giles," Kelly said. "_We're_ going to wait up for her. She's as much my responsibility as yours."

He argued— but Kelly won.

No one went to bed. We all fell asleep there in the living room, waiting for Jenna.

I woke to hear Giles saying, "Jenna, are you all right?"

I sat up, fully awake, and saw Jenna Darius standing in the doorway between dining room and living room, and everyone else sitting up some rubbing necks or asleep limbs. Rose shifted and sat up, having fallen asleep with her head in my lap.

"I'm not hurt," she said, her voice way more subdued than I'd ever heard it. "I… Giles, I didn't kill them. I… I wanted to! God, I wanted to! But I… something happened, and I didn't."

"Come in and sit down," Kelly said. "Please, Jenna."

She walked in, sat down on the edge of an empty chair, her hands clasped tightly together and clamped between her knees.

"Can you tell us what stopped you?" Giles asked, his voice gentle.

"I… don't know exactly what it was," Jenna said. "I think… I think it was a ghost. But I didn't know him. He just… he appeared while I was standing over that— that _bastard_ Paganini, and he… he said I shouldn't. Said that if I did things right, the son of a bitch and that poor girl's mom would go to jail, and the hell they'd go through there would be worse than anything I could do to them. And he said… he said if I didn't want to be like that miserable _bitch_ that killed Kennedy, I had to not kill them.

"So… I didn't. I… I found the things the ghost said were on their computer— I wore gloves, I wore them the whole time— and I left the— the m-movie running, and I— Paganini, he woke up, tried to get up. I dragged him outside, and I beat on him more— I _had_ to, I couldn't not, not after I saw— saw what he did to that girl, and… and the ghost never said a word against it.

"I broke both his arms. And a leg. To be sure, sure he couldn't go back in and… and clean up his computer. I'd tied the bitch up already, so… so she couldn't.

"The _bastard_… he screamed. When I beat him, he screamed. A neighbor called the cops, I guess. I left. Ran off, but not… not far. Just to a house across the street, and I hid under the porch there. I waited. I made _sure_. Before I went back to the car— it was a mile away, I wasn't going to get you in trouble, I swear, I tried to avoid that, even before the ghost got me to calm down.

"Before I went back, I saw them bring out the woman. In handcuffs. And Paganini… they were reading him his rights as they put him in the ambulance.

"So… so they go to jail. And if the ghost is right, they get to live some of what they did to her while they're there."

"This ghost," Giles said. "What did he look like?"

"Red hair," Jenna said. "Not real tall, but… built. And a scar on his neck, a scar—"

"Shaped like a shamrock!" Rose said, jumping to her feet.

"Yeah, how did you— oh. Oh, shit." Jenna looked at Rose, looked at her really hard. "He… that was your dad, wasn't it? He even sounded like… like Kelly does, sometimes. All Irish."

"Michael," Kelly said in a soft, wondering voice. "Oh, my god."

"It was Daddy," Rose said. "Daddy… I guess he figures since I'm a Slayer, he has to watch out for as many of us as he can.

"God, I love him!"

"And I'm very grateful to his spirit," Giles said. "Jenna…."

"I know, Giles," Jenna said. "You figure out the punishment, I'll take it. But… Giles, I never met her, but Kennedy… Kennedy said there's a lady that helped somebody here get over some bad shit that was done to them. I figure, since I can't even figure out who needed the help, the lady must be pretty damned good.

"Can you get that lady here? For the girl? And… and I think for me?

"I can't… I can't deal anymore. I'm scared and I'm sick and I can't be like that anymore, I— please?"

"Doctor Hodges is already on her way here," Giles said, glancing at his watch. "She'll be here very early in the morning to help Linnea— and I'm sure that she'll do what she can for you.

"As for punishment… I'm ready to administer that now."

Jenna sat up straight and met his eyes— and my estimation of her, already boosted for asking for help for Linnea, boosted again by asking for help for herself— went up again as she held Giles's gaze.

"Your punishment consists of doing your absolute best to let Diane Hodges help you," Giles said gently. "Even if that means talking about things that hurt or frighten you, I require that you try, and keep trying until you succeed."

Jenna stared at him— and her eyes started to tear up, hard for her, I know— and Giles got major points for defusing it.

"Oh, and tomorrow afternoon, once it's warm enough, you will wash and wax the car you took," Giles said, trying to sound stern, and almost making it. "Alone. No help from your fellow Slayers, or anyone else."

"Yes, sir," Jenna said. She stood, looked around at all of us, and said, "I'm sorry I scared everyone. I just… couldn't not do it."

"Ah, relax," Whitey said, stretching. "No harm, no foul— and you did something good, Jenna. You probably made it a lot easier for Linnea to get better, someday."

"An' for you to get better," Chantelle said. "Which, hey— that's cool. An' ain't nobody mad, Jenna— you got back safe."

"Okay," she said. She looked at Willow, and said, "Willow… if I made you sad, talking about Kennedy…."

"No, honey," Willow said. "It made me feel good to know she was trying to help you— and wherever she is now? I _know_ she's glad it worked."

Jenna nodded, and turned abruptly away, not able to cry in front of others, yet. Willow went to her, waved a good night at all of us as she led her outside, where Jenna could let go and get some of her hurt out.

"On that note," Ballard said, "I'm wiped out. Somebody come roll me out of bed at breakfast time, would you?

"Giles, Whitey— thanks for the job. All of you… thanks for making me welcome."

We all went to bed then, Rose, Sh'rin and I in my room, as Sunrise had Linnea to care for. I slept well and deeply until time to go get Diane Hodges at the airport, then came back and went right back to sleep.

We actually woke up in time to not be the last ones down to breakfast.

_Rose:_

Sunrise came down late, after most people had eaten, and poked her head into the kitchen, seeing only me, Elaine, Sh'rin, Ballard and Mom, she led Linnea in, deliberately seating herself and Linnea as far as possible from Ballard, who waved at them, said good morning after he'd swallowed the mouthful of food he'd been chewing.

"Morning," Sunrise agreed. She looked around as Mom got up to make them breakfast, said, "Kelly? If you don't want to cook, I'll go cereal."

"Nonsense, Dawn," Mom said. "You know I love to cook. Linnea? Do you like eggs? And if so, how?"

"Eggs are good," Linnea said. "Scrambled, please? And not runny?"

"Would you like some cheddar cheese in them?" Mom asked.

"Oh, please," Linnea said.

"Ballard, are you going to stay long enough to give Capoeira lessons?" Sunrise asked.

"You bet," he said, and grinned. "Giles offered me a job. Not being stupid, and liking the idea of fighting the fight you guys are fighting, I jumped in. I'm a Watcher-in-training, now."

"Sweet!" Sunrise said. "So… when do the lessons start?"

"Well, I need a few days to get situated, find everything I need," Ballard said. "I want to email Mestre Santiago, see if he has advice. Probably by Wednesday or Thursday."

"Is Capoeira the stuff you were doing last night?" Linnea asked, her voice very soft, but her eyes on Ballard.

"Sure is," Ballard said. "It's a martial art from Brazil, based in dance in acrobatics. Tons of fun, and damned useful. I never got touched last night— you know, the second time. If the one hadn't snuck up on me the first time, I might have gotten you out then."

"You helped get me out before they k-killed me," Linnea said, and shuddered. "That's the big thing. Thank you… Ballard, right? I'm sorry, I was kind of… messed up last night. Not everybody's name stuck."

"It's Ballard," he said. "And you're very welcome. I got a job and a life out of it, kiddo, so it worked out great for me, too."

Diane Hodges, looking neat and clean and relaxed, came in then, looked around, deliberately didn't stare at Linnea, and said to Mom, "Kelly, you look wonderful. How are you feeling?"

"Better than wonderful," Kelly said. "Diane… you do good work. I'm in love with Rupert and we're… very close."

"See, I told you," Diane said, grinning. "You're tough, you're smart— and you grabbed onto the essential facts right away. Hence, you got better— and made me look good."

"Thanks to you, and everyone here," Kelly said. "Still like your eggs hard?"

"Hard and almost burned," Diane said, and sat down. "Okay… who are the new people, here?"

"Diane Hodges, this is Ballard Innes," Sunrise said, indicating Ballard, who waved and said hello. "He's our newest Watcher trainee— and if you're very, very lucky, you'll see him practice his martial art, which is the very coolest thing ever, except possibly Rose and her sword forms."

"No, he's more fun to watch," I said. "Trust me."

"And this is Linnea Reardon, our newest Slayer," Dawn said. "Linnea… honey, how did you find us? You never emailed us, so… how did you find us?"

"That wasn't so hard," she said. "I found your website once I started searching for why I was super strong and stuff all the sudden, and… well, I couldn't email you. I never… R-Ron, he used to hack my email accounts all the time, so I was afraid he'd know. And he'd… look, I know I could have hurt him, but… but I c-couldn't stop b-b-being sc-scared of him!"

"Ssh, it's okay, honey," Sunrise said. "He can't hurt you, not here. He couldn't if he knew where here was.

"So… how did you find us?"

"Well… I had to get out," Linnea said. "Had to— it got w-worse at— he was going to— they were g-going to make me d-d-do sex with o-other people! I had to go! H-h-_had_ to!"

"Of course you had to," Diane said. "It was the only smart choice. Good for you for making it.

"So… how _did_ you find our friends, here?"

"I… stole some money from Ron's wallet," Linnea said, looking down at her plate. "And I went to a guy a friend from school told me about. He… he's one of those guys who hacks into computers for fun, you know? So I gave him all the money I took to hack into the place that hosts your website, and get me the address of the owner of the site. He got it, and even gave me back some money to eat on and stuff. He was… okay.

"I loved that you were so close, I knew I could get here before… before th-they f-found me, and I knew they wouldn't call the cops." Linnea shuddered. "I stayed on country roads, so I wouldn't get seen by cops, and would have more places to hide if I saw a cop car, and… those things, they came out from under a little bridge over a stream when I was in the middle, and there was nowhere to g-go, and I thought they were… were going to kill me, but… b-but I wasn't so scared of that as I w-was of g-g-going home.

"Then… then Ballard got caught and… and I was afraid they'd killed him, I was so mad that they t-t-tortured him that I even broke loose for a second, but they caught me again, and… and then Ballard brought everyone to save me… and Ballard, I— you— I wish I could—"

"No worries, Linnea," Ballard said. He cocked his head for a moment, thought, then said, "Look, I know you're upset that I got hurt, and I'm glad— makes me feel even better about helping the Slayers save you.

"But… you know what's best about the whole deal?"

"What?" she asked.

"You being so worried about me?" Ballard said. "So worried about a guy who screwed up trying to save you the first time? So worried about anything, Linnea, able to care about other people after the things that have been done to you?

"Kiddo, that says to me that you are something pretty damned special. And that you have what it takes to get better.

"That's the big thing. Getting better. You do that? We're even. Heck, you do that, I owe you one.

"So… get better, please?"

Linnea stared at him for a long moment, tears spilling over from her eyes, then got up and walked slowly around the table to within four feet or so of Ballard, stopped there. After a moment, she said, "I'll get better— if you promise to not be mad at yourself for needing to try twice to get me out of there.

"Deal?"

She held her right hand out, and Ballard stood slowly, reached out without moving closer and shook her hand gently, let go as soon as she did.

"Deal," he said— and sat back down.

Linnea retreated back to her seat beside Sunrise, sat down— and dug into her breakfast with an appetite much more evident than she'd had before.

Diane looked at Ballard, mouthed, "Thank you," silently— and dug into her own breakfast.

When Linnea finished, Kelly said, "Honey… there's something we can do to make you safer, make it easier for you to stay with us, but I'll need a little help from you."

"What do you need?" Linnea asked. She looked a little wary, but not much.

"I need to get a Polaroid of your face for a fake school ID," Mom said. "And I need to know your birthday, and a middle name you'd like to have. Oh, and if there's a common last name you'd like to have— not Smith or Jones, but not Paiwonski or Schwartzenelenbogen, if you see what I mean— and a couple of other little details. Height and weight, like that. Just to make the fake ID stand up better, you see?"

"Oh," Linnea said, looking thoughtful. "So… um, am I going to be someone's daughter, or something?"

"No, but we'll make one of us adults your legal guardian," Kelly said. "You can pick from me, Whitey and Giles."

"Okay," Linnea said. "Um… Ballard?"

"Yes, Linnea?"

"Is there— like a feminine version of your name?" Linnea asked. "You know, like Jane to John, or Michelle to Michael?"

Ballard looked hugely flattered, but shook his head. "Afraid not, Linnea— but wow, that's flattering, thanks!"

"Wait," Elaine said. "Ballard… there is a female version of one of your names, and the female is only old fashioned, not, you know, wrong, like it is on a guy."

"Ballard isn't your name?" Linnea asked, curious.

Ballard gets points. Knowing it would distract her at least a little, he 'fessed up to that awful name again.

"My folks are disgustingly rich," Ballard said. "And they named me for the first man in my family to get rich— way back in the seventeen hundreds. My full name— and I beg of you, all of you, don't make me say this too often, it makes me whimper to say it— is Cecil Aloysius Ballard Innes the fourth." He whimpered after he said it, to prove his point.

"Yuck," Linnea said. "Yeah, okay, you're Ballard.

"But, well… could I be Linnea Cecilia? Would that be okay?"

"More like 'flattering' than just 'okay,' Linnea," Ballard said, and looked at Elaine. "Good thought, Elaine."

A few minutes later, after looking through a phone book for ideas, she settled on Linnea Cecilia Nolan. She went off with Kelly easily enough to get her picture taken, came back and sat with Sunrise again after, and said, "Kelly? You said I could have you as my guardian. I'd like that… please?"

"Oh, cool," I said, as Mom hugged her and said yes. "Another sister. Win!"

Linnea gave me a little smile at that, and I called it a victory.

"Linnea," Diane said, now that the essentials of getting her settled in here were done, "I don't think anyone's told you… I'm a doctor. A psychologist and psychiatrist. If you'll let me, I'd like to try to help you deal with all the things that have happened to you.

"It will help you keep your deal with Ballard, honey, if you can talk with me."

Linnea looked down at the floor for a long minute, then said in a very small voice, "Can Dawn come with me?"

"I think… this first time, yes," Diane said. "If she's willing. But… only this first time, sweetheart, because… I know you're hurt, and you need help. But you can't lean too much on other people, or you won't get better."

"Okay," Linnea said. "Dawn, will you?"

"Absolutely," Dawn said. "Is now a good time to get started? Post-mission days are workout free, so I'm free."

She and Diane and Linnea went to the study on the second floor, and didn't come out until lunch time. When they did, Linnea went with Diane out to meet Nancy and the other girls out there— and Sunrise, looking like she couldn't decide whether to cry or kill something, said in a ragged voice, "Heavy bag. Kick bag. Something!"

We went to the basement, and Sunrise, drawing on everything she'd learned since May, beat the living hell out of the various punching bags and the kick bag, working herself until she was pouring sweat before she seemed able to calm down.

"Okay," she gasped. "Okay, better. Thanks, Rose— for holding the bag. And for teaching me so much."

"Never a problem," I said. I looked up at her, smiled for her, and said, "You've got guts, going to listen to… evil shit like that. Least I can do is help you purge it from your system."

"Yeah," Sunrise said. "It was… I hope we can figure out a way to send those awful, evil fucking people to jail!"

"Oh, you were in bed," Elaine said. "Sunrise… it's done. Maybe not how Giles would have wanted it done, but it's done— they're in jail."

"How did that happen?" Sunrise asked. "And do you think whoever made it happen would want kissed? Because if they do, I will!"

"I don't think Jenna would want kissed," I said. "She's still all messed up herself, too messed up to appreciate a good Sunrise kiss. But she did it— with some help from the Powers That Be… and my Daddy."

"This I have to hear," she said. "But then I'm showering."

Elaine told her, all four of us sitting on various exercise equipment while we talked, and Sunrise grinned a 'take _that_ you assholes' grin while she listened.

"Oh, man," Sunrise said. "That's just— look, I'm going to tell Diane, so she can tell Linnea. _Then_ I'll shower. Company in the shower… would be welcome."

She went and found Diane, who was sitting and talking with Nancy while Linnea shopped online for clothes and stuff— with some help from Jenna, Sunrise told us, which made everybody feel better— then we all went and showered together. Crowded— but fun!

When we came downstairs, we found Whitey hauling lumber inside and down to the basement from the outside door from a stack by the drive, and we helped, then asked what it was for.

"Ballard's birthday is two weeks from yesterday," Whitey said. "Giles and Kelly are planning on giving him Barnes and Noble's gift cards, so he can start replenishing his book collection. I'm going to make some shelves for him to put them on for his present."

"Very cool," I said, approving completely. "You do good work, Whitey. When you make shelves that stand up to some of the monstrous— sometimes _literally_— books in Giles's collection, there's no doubt but that you make a sturdy shelf.

"Me… well, if he gets an iPod, like Giles suggested, I'm going to get him an iTunes gift card or two."

"Also a good idea," Whitey said. "Of course, we're going to try to keep this a secret, girls. We love surprising people."

"Yeah, well, I can get behind that," I said. Then I grinned. "But don't get any ideas. I'm not like your wife or my girlfriend— I _remember_ that my birthday is a week from today."

"Smartass," Elaine muttered.

"Uh-huh," I said. "Smart enough to remember my own birthday."

We finished getting the stuff in for Whitey, and just in time. Ten minutes later, Xander and Ballard came back home, and we helped Ballard get his stereo and bags of clothes upstairs, as well as the portable stereo he'd bought for workouts.

An hour later, he took the portable stereo and his iPod, freshly loaded with a dozen Capoeira-worthy songs, out to the back patio, hooked the iPod into the stereo— and everyone came out to watch as he worked himself into a happy lather practicing his art.

"Great googly-moogly," Xander said when Ballard shut off the stereo and dropped to sit on the patio. "Man, you must be half merry-go-round horse, being able to spin so much without getting dizzy."

"It's an acquired immunity to dizziness." He caught the bottle of water that Whitey tossed him, nodded his thanks, and drank half the bottle down. "At first… yeah, I reeled around like a drunk a good bit."

"Hard to imagine," Diane said. "You're so graceful that I'm almost green with envy."

"All it takes is hard work and a thick skull," Ballard said cheerfully. "I'm lucky I didn't crack it open, as much as I fell at first."

Dinner that night was awesome— and Ballard complained quite happily that he'd have to do a double workout on Sunday to get rid of the extra weight he'd surely put on by eating Mom's spaghetti.

Not much happened that week. I mean— things happened, yeah, but most of them wouldn't interest people who weren't part of them.

Interesting stuff: Diane worked with Jenna and Linnea every day, some individually, some with both of them. It seemed to be taking. Jenna… not so edgy. Less prickly, more quiet. Linnea… less panicky, more at ease around our guys. In fact, Thursday night, she timidly, shyly and briefly hugged Ballard before going off to the dorm house to bed. He grinned like a proud papa after that, and nobody blamed him.

Ballard started teaching Capoeira to Sunrise, Elaine and (surprised the hell out of me!) Mom on Thursday. Mom had been a hell of a dancer when she was younger, I knew that— she gave up a possible professional dancing career to marry Daddy, and swears she never regretted it. They all three picked up the basic movement— that ginga thing— super fast, and learned the other things really fast.

Saturday, I had the birthday from heaven.

Start the day with Elaine, Sunrise and Sh'rin making love to me, focusing on making me happy, and going until I passed out from the orgasms. Move on to lunch, which was— you guessed it!— Grandma Riley's chicken! Add in homemade macaroni and cheese, fresh steamed peas, corn on the cob and Sh'rin's "wild salad," and I ate WAY too much!

My cake… oh, rapture! Red velvet cake, my all-time favorite, decorated with a kung-fu-costumed girl with red hair, wielding the Scythe! I laughed so hard at that I almost didn't notice the pile of presents!

Presents… yowza. I got CDs, books, gift cards for more of each, my own iPod (those things are dangerously addictive, I swear), gift cards for songs for it, and three presents that stand out above all others.

Elaine… wow. Elaine got me tickets to a concert in Chicago the next Saturday featuring Matchbox Twenty and my favorite band, Maroon Five. I think I may have shattered crystal with my squeal….

Mom got me a freaking Alienware laptop computer! One of the newest ones, tricked out completely, and with three new games that I really wanted to go with it. I bounced off of the walls.

And then… that last present, the one that made everything _perfect._ It came in a small box, one that you see those expensive gift pens in, and it was from Mom and Giles both. I opened it, lifted the lid— and stared for a long moment, making sure I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing.

Then I whooped, leaped, and managed to hug them both, yelling, "YES-YES-YES-YES-YES!" over and over, while everyone around us looked completely confused, and Mom and Giles laughed (at least partly in relief— I'd stared long enough that they were worried), Mom cried happy, and they both hugged back.

"What the heck, did you guys give her the mansion or—" Buffy started.

I handed her the box, went back to hugging them.

"Omigod!" Buffy said. "Oh… my… GOD!"

Then Buffy was hugging them, and Xander lost his patience, took the box from her, looked down into it— and busted out laughing before holding it up for everyone to see.

In the box was one of those home pregnancy tests… and there was a big plus sign in the window!

Everybody whooped.

"I saw the doctor yesterday, and confirmed it, Rose, Laurie," Mom said (Laurie having launched herself into the hug as soon as she saw). "I'm due around the twenty-fifth of May."

More hugging, then Giles said, "Ladies and gentlemen… I would be most honored if you would assist us in getting married on Saturday October the eleventh."

Laurie and I whooped louder than everybody else combined.

Hell of a way to announce that Mom was pregnant and they were getting married— but I approved.

What a birthday!


	49. Chapter 49

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 49

_Elaine:_

Kelly and Giles getting married… Kelly pregnant… WOW!

Rose was so happy I thought she'd pop, and Laurie was the same way.

Wedding preparations hit full speed ahead very quickly— I almost felt guilty about kidnapping Rose for that concert… and the rest of the surprise.

I gave her the money, and Kelly reserved us a room at a hotel for the night, a nice hotel… and after the concert, when I took her there, and she realized we were staying the night, my Rose cried happy.

Worth every penny I spent.

The day before the concert and overnight was Ballard's birthday— and he forgot that he'd mentioned it, so we got to surprise him. He got happily choked up over all the presents, and it was just… sweet. He got a ton of books— drawing him into conversation about old favorites he wanted to replace was easy— and iTunes cards, and Barnes and Noble's cards, and the shelves from Whitey— and his favorite present of all, a relatively small one, but thoughtful, appropriate and funny.

Sunrise gave him this heavy-weight t-shirt, and she'd had a painting of Ballard in the middle of a mid-air acrobatic-attack maneuver airbrushed on the front of it (she'd snapped a pic of him one day, taken it to a shop where they made custom shirts), and on the back, a fake dictionary definition that said, "cap·o·ei·ra [kap-ō-ay-ruh]— combat break-dancing."

He laughed himself silly, hugged her super-tight, and he wore it at least twice a week while teaching after that.

Not much else happened until Giles and Kelly got married….

Not that we knew about.

_Interlude:_

Amy sat back and looked at her handiwork, nodded approval, and stood. She opened her magic-circle-in-progress, stepped out of it, closed it again, and grinned.

A pair of hands slid under her arms, came up to cup her breasts, and Amy leaned back into her girlfriend's arms, sighed as Claudia massaged her.

"That feels nice," Amy said. "Are you trying to tempt me into going to bed with you?"

"Well, you have been working yourself to a frazzle, lately," Claudia said against Amy's ear. "This is a big work, I get that, and I know that it's tiring— you can't fake looking as tired as you sometimes do.

"But… all work and no sex makes Amy a sad girl."

"Good point," Amy said, and turned to kiss Claudia. "Very good point. Race you to the bed!"

Claudia won the race up to their bedroom, was lying on the bed wearing only a pair of panties when Amy caught up with her.

Amy grinned, stripped herself, and hopped into bed.

An hour later, they lay snuggling, and Claudia asked how the circle was coming.

"Well, it's slow," Amy said. "But the power's building up like I want. I'll need to start the second circle tomorrow, maybe the day after— the one for the actual location. Then… still going to need a sacrifice. The whole sixth daughter of a sixth daughter of a sixth daughter thing. A virgin would be a nice bonus, and a Slayer would be a bonus of immeasurable help. The sacrifice… well, it will be the finishing touch. The last act."

"Then they go down, right?" Claudia said. "I mean— Christ, these people are pretty tough, Amy. And goddamn lucky. Bouncing back from me killing your little bitch's girlfriend, and then stopping those Urtulal? Tough and lucky.

"Still… I'd rather be challenged than waltz right through them."

"That's one of the things I love about you," Amy said, kissing Claudia lightly. "You aren't afraid of doing things the hard way."

"Never have been," Claudia said. "So… anything I can do to help with your circles?"

"Not with the circles, no," Amy said. "But… maybe it's time you started making your presence felt with the locals. Started… making your name here."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Claudia said. "Four serious street gangs. Gotta be somebody above them, but… I'm thinking he won't show himself until I become a total pain in the ass. Oh, and you were right about the local whores. Purest skank. No organization, just independents."

"Well, I'll leave all that to you," Amy said. "You obviously know what you're doing there— after all, you took over the criminal element of Chicago in a couple of months. How hard can Bloomington-Normal be after that?"

"Not very," Claudia said. "So… how about tonight I at least make sure that the building— the one for the actual opening location— is clear, and stays clear? That suit you?"

"Suits me better than fine," Amy said, and kissed Claudia again. "Sweetie… it's almost dark. Want to go out on the balcony and do it again? I think the old dentist next door is actively watching for us, these days. Ever since he saw us that first time. Shall we give him a thrill?"

"Mmm, sounds fun," Claudia said.

Claudia got up eagerly, ran to the balcony doors, went outside, and moved to the left, so that the big old oak tree that overhung the balcony wouldn't obstruct the view of the old man behind them— a retired dentist, and a gentleman. Claudia kind of liked him, so didn't mind giving him a cheap thrill. The day after she and Amy had moved in, he'd come over with a big cake for them, welcomed them, and told them that if they ever needed to cut through his yard to get to Washington Street, a major thoroughfare here in Bloomington, he didn't mind at all.

Claudia saw a tiny movement in one of the windows at the back of the dentist's house, grinned, and deliberately stretched, giving the old guy a nice, long look at her nude body.

Then Amy's hands were on her, Amy's lips were on her— and the world went wonderfully white.

_Elaine:_

Rose, Sunrise, Sh'rin and I made love the Saturday night a week before the wedding… and Chantelle joined us.

None of us had really expected that, but we welcomed her very happily. She started snuggling with Rose right after dinner, and Rose was… very receptive. Chantelle was a babe before she started showing, and the more pregnant she got, the more beautiful she got. By early October, she was five and a half months, showing plainly, and just mind-bogglingly gorgeous.

At Chantelle's inviting glance, I sat down on her other side, and it became a three way cuddle. After a little while, during a loud part of the movie we had in (the original Die Hard— much fun), Chantelle said, "You ladies know that I have Whitey's permission to sneak in a little girl-sex now and again, right?"

"Kind of figured," Rose said. "He's right in the head, your husband."

"I sure think so," Chantelle said. "Well, right after Giles an' Kelly get back from their honeymoon, me an' him start Lamaze classes, an' I won't be thinkin' much about nothin' but Jocelyn an' Whitey… so I was kinda wonderin' if y'all might like a little blond in your bed for variety's sake tonight."

"Oh, my," I said. "Chantelle… we already sort of made plans to make love with Sunrise and Sh'rin. But… Rose's bed is freaking huge, and even pregnant, you aren't that big….

"How much variety do you think you can stand?"

"All four of you?" Chantelle said, her eyes gleaming. "Oh, I can stand it, trust me! Ain't never been with more than one girl at a time before— I 'spect I'm gonna love it.

"But maybe you ought to make sure it's all right with them, first?"

"Easy to do," I said. I got up to go and refill my glass of tea, stopped by the loveseat where Sh'rin and Sunrise were snuggling on my way back, bent to put my head close to both of theirs, and whispered a question.

They looked surprised— but no sort of unhappy. They both said yes, then looked at Chantelle and nodded. She grinned, and once the movie was over, she went to Whitey, kissed him goodnight, then let Rose and I lead her upstairs, with Sh'rin and Sunrise right behind us.

(Poor Ballard. He'd obviously noticed what was going on, and he made a valiant effort not to stare, succeeded mostly— but still had this sort of stunned look on his face. Stunned and _speculative_. But he was a gentleman about it, and tried to look normal. Nifty guy, him.)

Yum. Just… yum. Chantelle is sexy, sweet, wild in the best way, crazy-eager, super responsive, and _talented_. She's also a total cuddle-monster, loves to hug, snuggle, cuddle… sweet. No wonder Rose was so bubbly after the night she'd slept with Chantelle.

We went down in the morning, and she kissed each of us in the kitchen before going to Whitey and climbing into his lap sideways. He cuddled her, kissed her which went places) then chuckled and said, "I should have known. We'll go to bed for a while right after breakfast, sex-monkey.

"Ladies… thanks for making her feel good."

"Never a problem," Sunrise said. "It worked both ways— she made us feel good, too. She's cuddly."

"Yeah, I'm cuddly," Chantelle said, rolling her eyes. "I'm the one who got the middle of the cuddle, Whitey— they snuggled me good."

"Everybody's happy," Whitey said. "Why quibble over details?"

"Credit where credit is due," Chantelle said primly. "That's important, you say so yourself."

"Yes, good point," Whitey said. "So… thanks again, ladies."

Poor Ballard was again blushing. I couldn't help but grin over that. It was sweet.

Thursday came around… and things started getting crazy, in a cool way— mostly, anyway. I mean, a little frustration, here and there, when you meet a Slayer from halfway round the world— and can't talk to her, because she doesn't speak English, and you don't speak Kriol…. (An Australian Aborigine language.)

Yeah. This, the wedding of the head of the Watcher's Council, Andrew and his monster crew of European and Asian Slayers were not about to miss.

I had no idea how well he'd done at finding Slayers— Rose said she'd known, but hadn't thought about it, since they were there and we were here. But Andrew, and the two people he'd hired, and one retired Watcher Giles had talked into coming out of retirement (nice older gentleman named Robson, who'd meant to retire after nearly being killed by the First Evil's Bringers), had managed to amass a crew of almost _four hundred Slayers!_

They were training them boot camp style, the only way to handle such numbers, with the aid of a staff of hired trainers who'd worked for the militaries of various nations, none of whom had actually come with, opting to take the time to visit their families, instead.

They were broken into two camps over there, I understand, one in Italy (Andrew's crew) and one in Scotland (Robson's crew). Each had one hired Watcher-in-Training (Giles admitted, almost against his will, I think, that Andrew had done well with the hiring of trainees), and we ended up hiring one more for America at the wedding.

Which was the other cool thing; I got to meet more of Rose's family. She had two aunts and uncles on her mom's side, and one aunt from her dad's side, who loved Kelly enough to be honestly happy that she was marrying again.

They all arrived on Thursday, too— and Giles ended up hiring, at her request, Rose's Aunt Mary, a former Potential, as a Watcher, and her husband, Steve, as a Watcher-in-training. They were going to set up on a ranch in Montana, one that Giles bought for them, right after the wedding. Mary and Steve (first name use was ordered for all and sundry right away) agreed to send any "special needs" Slayers our way, and spent Thursday night in discussion with the other Watchers. Neat.

One other treat before the wedding; we got to see Ballard work out with another Capoeirista, a Slayer from the Netherlands named Samara Vandermeer. Capoeira was gaining popularity over there, and she'd been at it for a year or so before getting Slayer-ized. Watching them spar, or dance, or play the Game (so they called sparring) was a treat! When Sunrise, Kelly and I demonstrated our much lower skills (I'd abandoned karate completely, but Sensei Yashida understood), she coached us with him.

Then came the Wedding. We had it at home again, with more tents than last time, as the guest list was HUGE, with all the Slayers, and the weather was gorgeous— thanks to Willow, who made it stop raining on Thursday, kept the weather warm and sunny all weekend.

Giles and Kelly had opted for a bigger wedding party than had Whitey and Chantelle, mostly because Kelly flatly refused to leave any of her "daughters" out of the picture.

Rose was Kelly's maid of honor, Laurie and I bridesmaids, and Linnea the flower girl. For Giles's side, Xander was the best man, Whitey and Robin Wood groomsmen, and Vincent ringbearer. Andrew and Ballard played ushers, with help from two of Kelly's nephews, and Kelly's brother David gave her away. The same retired judge who had performed the ceremony for Whitey and Chantelle officiated, and did a wonderful job.

Again, I cried like a baby— it was gorgeous. Kelly was just radiant, and Giles… that man completely understands how to wear a tux. He has the presence and the dignity to make one look comfortable and natural, and that made him as hunkalicious as any of the younger men around him.

At the end of the ceremony, Kelly tossed the bridal bouquet, and Giles the garter, and Sh'rin and Ballard caught them. (Ballard cheated— well, not cheated, but used the unfair advantage of having springs in his legs from all the Capoeira. He leaped up and nabbed it before it could drop into reach of the normal, non-spring-legged men.)

Then came another surprise. After the obligatory dance alone for the bride and groom (and Kelly and Giles can both dance wonderfully— I felt like I was watching an old musical, watching them), the floor was opened to those of us from the wedding party. Rose danced with Xander, Laurie with Whitey, me with Robin Wood (hell of a dancer, him!), and Vincent with Linnea. (She'd gotten to the point where dancing with a man she knew and liked didn't freak her, and she just plain loved Vincent anyway— the purring thing had made her love him from the first time she'd heard it.) Also, Sh'rin and Ballard danced together, having caught the bouquet and garter.

As the dance ended, Sh'rin moved up on her toes and kissed the ever-lovin' _heck_ out of Ballard. Not being stupid, he responded— and I saw a lot of pent up desire on his part, as well as Sh'rin's. He looked at her after it was over, blinked a time or two, and said, softly, "Dawn?"

"She would kiss you, too," Sh'rin said. "We would both spend time with you, Ballard— to see if we three may become lovers."

He stared. Then he shook himself, said, "Well… uh, I do love you both. Have for a while, now. But… I don't want to get in the way of anything, and you two and Elaine and Rose…."

"Can you accept that sometimes we will need to be with them, and that you will need to stay alone when that happens?" Sh'rin asked.

"I… well, yes," Ballard said. "I mean— I think so. I'd certainly like to think I'm not some jealous butt-munch. I know you guys all love each other."

"Then I think you should ask Dawn to dance," Sh'rin said, and led him off the floor. "Sooner would be better."

Five minutes later, Sunrise kissed him just as emphatically as Sh'rin had.

"Good call," Rose said to Sh'rin where we three sat, openly watching Sunrise and Ballard dance, then kiss. "I approve of your taste, Sh'rin, yours and Sunrise's."

"I hope it will work," Sh'rin said. "I do love him. He is good and brave and sweet… and he is a very, _very_ good kisser."

"I can tell," I said, and giggled. "Good lord, she's trying to kiss him for longer than you did, I think!"

"_That_ can't be easy," Rose said, grinning.

"Easier than you think," Sh'rin said. "It is like kissing you two, or her— time stops."

"Yep, you've got it bad," I said, and grinned. "But… yeah. I approve."

Soon there was cake, and presents, and Whitey's toast to the bride and groom, and things just… flowed. It was one of those perfect evenings, the kind you remember until you die.

Xander (now admitting to the title of Watcher), Whitey, Robin, Robson, and Andrew got together to give them a honeymoon of yumminess. A week in London, a week in Ireland— which tickled them both, as Kelly had wanted to go to Ireland for about forever, and a trip to London was a visit home for Giles.

Just before they got in the limousine, Rose hugged them both, and gave Giles a very serious look.

"You know how much I approve of this, right?" she asked.

"I do— and I'm very grateful," Giles said, keeping his arms around her.

"Well… Mom says you'd be willing to adopt me and Laurie," Rose said— which I hadn't known about. "I hope you'll understand… I have to say no, though I think Laurie's going to jump on it.

"I love you… I do. But I'm my Daddy's girl, now and forever. And I want to wear his name forever.

"So you're going to have to just settle for me calling you Dad… Dad."

Giles hugged her so hard that she actually grunted, at that.

"Thank you, Rose," he said. "I do understand about your pride in your father, and your desire to keep his name. I will cheerfully deal with you calling me 'dad'— so long as you solemnly swear that you will never, ever call me 'papa.' There, I must draw the line."

"I promise," Rose said, and bounced up to kiss his cheek. She hugged her mother one more time, then said, "Have fun, you two. Bring me back a leprechaun!"

We had a nice night, Rose and I. And Sh'rin and Sunrise, while they slept alone together, did spend about three hours "talking" with Ballard— which, for those of you who've forgotten what it's like to be a young person in love, means they talked some— between make-out sessions.

Watching him blush in the morning when they both kissed him good morning was cute as hell.


	50. Chapter 50

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 50

_Rose:_

You know what a goofball my sister Laurie is? She was actually worried that, since I wasn't going to let Gi—_Dad_ adopt me— about which he understood, him and Mom both, thank god!— that I'd be mad at her for wanting to do it.

"Don't be dumb, Laurie," I said. "First point; Mom is going to adopt you, too, making you my sister legally, not just in all the other ways that count, so I can legally kick the ass of anyone who messes with you, and use the defense 'hey, he messed with my sister' in a courtroom.

"Second point; I know you don't like to think about it much, but I also know you don't want to be a Wentworth. So I'm all for you being a Giles.

"Third point; Laurel Christine _Giles,_ I love you— and want you happy. Being a Killian is a part of who I am, and not changing that makes me happy. Well, you being a Giles will make you happy— and I want that."

I got hugged and we sniffled and snuggled for a while after that.

The Sunday after Mom and Dad got married rocked. The other Slayers, the European and Asian groups and the Cleveland group, were sticking around until Tuesday, and that meant that I got to spar more girls than I could have imagined. Not all of them came over, of course— many wanted to see some of an American city, a lot took off for Chicago or St. Louis, but almost a hundred stuck around. Loads of fun! Day-long spar-fest, how can you go wrong?

Monday… well, my after school kung fu class on Monday was fun— I'd picked up a lot from the other Slayers, and Sifu let me teach some of it. (I taught as often as not, now— usually, I taught half the class, Sam Hollister taught the other half while Sifu worked with me and some other advanced students. Nifty fun.)

After class, I went home, and we had a big old bonfire out in the back yard, cooked hot dogs on sticks, and regaled the Eurasian group with tales of our assault on Wolfram and Hart, and the vampire-slash-demon party where Whitey was held the night he was kidnapped.

Then Whitey told everyone about my first time out as team leader— and I blushed furiously, all the while I was grinning, as Robin and Andrew both congratulated me— and every Slayer present listened attentively to the whole story. (Robson had gone with some of the younger girls to Chicago, not wanting them unescorted.)

We listened to Vi talk about a couple of the things she'd done— girl's got guts in spades— and Robin and the Cleveland gang's stories of the Cleveland Hellmouth.

We stayed up a little too late— but no one minded much. It was a good time, and we girls got to know each other pretty well, some of us at least.

(On another note; I don't know if they were nervous about things before and got relaxed a lot when they saw no one at all reacting negatively to me and Elaine, or to Sunrise and Sh'rin, or if it was something I'd just failed to notice before, but I saw two pairs of girls leave with their arms around each other who hadn't been that affectionate the rest of the time they were with us. Either way, I approved.)

Tuesday, back to routine. School, home, work on Hwa Rang Do with Whitey, watch Capoeira, do homework, eat supper, get lazy. (Or sexy— depending on mood.) Go to bed around nine-thirty or ten, to _sleep_ around eleven, get up around five, teach Slayers kung fu, eat breakfast, off to school (dropped off by Elaine and Sunrise on their way to Winston), go to kung fu class with Sifu after school on Wednesday, rinse, repeat. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I learned kung fu, six days a week I taught it. Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, I learned Hwa Rang Do from Whitey. I loved it all.

The rest of that week was quiet, comfortable, relaxed and fun. Friday night, Sunrise, Sh'rin and Ballard went out on an actual date, going to Beningo's for dinner, then off to see the Runaway Jury, then… well, the after-the-movie wasn't settled on. Supposedly.

I didn't buy that for a second. I was pretty damned sure that Sunrise and Sh'rin, at least, had settled on what was going to happen after the movie. I was also totally sure that Ballard would cooperate, love cooperating— and still be surprised by it. (My sureness about what the girls had in mind came from overhearing Sh'rin reassuring Sunrise that "the spell to prevent babies will not fail, Dawn. It has never failed, not that I have heard about." Kind of a dead giveaway.)

I think Buffy knew, too. She watched them leave with a sort a… well, this may not make sense, but she had a sort of rueful smirk on her face as she watched them go.

I was right. Well, we were right— Elaine suspected the same thing.

Saturday morning, Ballard, Sunrise and Sh'rin all came out of his room, all smiling— hell all _glowing!_— and Ballard blushed.

When we all got downstairs, Buffy and Xander looked at them, looked at each other, looked at Willow— and the three of them said in perfect sync, "Dawn Summers, you get to tell Giles about this by yourself."

Ballard blushed deeper, but Sunrise just said, "Not a problem." She then kissed Ballard, kissed Sh'rin— and kissed me and Elaine.

"I swear, I'm gonna join a nunnery," Brianne said. "Or demand to go to a public school. How are any of us supposed to meet guys when we don't go to school?"

"You aren't," Xander said cheerfully. "You already have joined a nunnery, Bree— didn't anyone tell you?"

She smacked him in the forehead with a thrown biscuit. Being Xander, he said, "Thanks Bree— I was about to ask for a biscuit."

"Smartass," she said.

"It's a gift," Xander acknowledged. "Okay— what's on the agenda for today?"

Later in the afternoon, Elaine and I sat down with Sh'rin and Sunrise, and I promptly said, "Well? How was it?"

"Wonderful," Sh'rin said. "He's… in bed, he does not change. He remains sweet, caring— lovable."

"I'll second that wonderful," Sunrise said. "I mean— I'm not about to give up you girls for guys— I like both, very much bisexual, me— but yow. I'm not about to give up him, either. I love you all— and I'm going to do that for vaguely forever."

"Works for me," Elaine said. "He's sweet. And even I admit… what a hunk!"

"Seconded," I said. "If I were going to try a guy? Yeah, pretty much be him. Or Whitey, they're alike in a lot of cool ways. But Whitey would freak— one underage girl he can handle, mostly because he's totally gone in love with her, but a second? He'd probably pass out if I suggested it."

"Well, now you know how to get out of a Hwa Rang Do class if you want to," Sunrise said philosophically. "Proposition him, he passes out, no class for teacher infirmity."

We talked a while longer, and, come bedtime, Elaine and I got a surprise; Sunrise asked if she could stay with us. Of course we said yes! But we also asked why, since we'd expected her and Sh'rin to stay with Ballard.

"Sh'rin's going to stay with him," Sunrise said. "But he had a really good point— seems he's been thinking about this which, god, I love that, it means he wants it to work.

"It needs to work as three couples, not just a triangle. So tonight, him and Sh'rin. Tomorrow, during the day, me and him, since tomorrow's a school night."

"He is bright," I said. I grinned, and started helping Sunrise out of her shirt. "I mean— we four work in all combinations of two and three, not just as a foursome. So making sure you guys work in all combinations, that's pretty smart."

"Of course, all three of you are complete dingbats," Elaine said, smiling to take the sting from the words. "But that's okay, you're all in 'new love' phase, stupid is to be expected— and at least you aren't making love in public places, like Kimber and I did."

"Oh, and what's wrong with our little plan?" Sunrise said.

"Simple, Sunrise," Elaine said. "Sh'rin doesn't go to school, so isn't bound by the 'sleep alone on school nights' rule. You should be with him right now, then Sh'rin could stay the night with him tomorrow night."

"Oh, crap," Sunrise said, looking comically stricken. "Why didn't I think of that? Why didn't _we_ think of that!"

"They were still downstairs," I said, grinning, "since neither of them had ever seen the Fellowship of the Ring, and it's got at least half an hour to go. If you and Sh'rin want to trade, do this right, we won't mind— love you both, and both combinations of three work."

"Are you sure?" Sunrise asked. "Really sure?"

"Dingbat," Elaine said lovingly. "Yes, we're sure— we love you. We want you happy. This is a shorter path to being sure of that. So get dressed, and get your butt down there, put the idea to them."

Sunrise did exactly that— and a half an hour later, when the movie was over, Sh'rin came to Elaine's room and joined us in bed.

"Thank you for thinking so clearly, seeing a better path for us," she said, ducking her head and kissing me.

"Oh, that was Elaine," I gasped. "She thought of it— not me."

"Then I will thank her properly." Sh'rin grinned, kissed me— then moved to kiss Elaine, who responded to that particular "thank you" cheerfully.

In the morning, Sunrise got up from the breakfast table (where she sat next to Ballard), kissed Sh'rin, kissed me, kissed Elaine— and Ballard got up to kiss Sh'rin, then hug the stuffing out of me and Elaine both.

"Thank you," he said to both of us. "For thinking about us. Explains all in one neat little package why they love you so much."

"Never a problem," I said. "And, hey… you give great hugs."

"Back at you," he said, grinning.

Sunday went by nice and relaxed. Warm and fuzzy snuggling, happy time wasting, sex in the afternoon, Xander and Whitey working together to produce an awesome dinner— and discussion of what plans were being made for Halloween.

"Well, since Winston isn't having a dance until Saturday night, even though Halloween's on Friday," Elaine said, "I was kind of hoping that Rose and I could kidnap each other on Friday and Saturday— since BHS has theirs Friday night."

"I've got no problems with that," Whitey said. "But we are having a party here for Halloween, too, you know. But I'm sure it will go on later than your dance, Rose."

"Oh, yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "They'll stop ours at ten. Idiots. Kids will just go elsewhere, then.

"Hey, can I invite Brian and Kimber back here after the dance?"

"You kidding?" Whitey said. "Of course. They help us out all the time— they're Scoobies, they can come."

"Oh, can I place an order for a dozen hunky guys of various ages?" Brianne asked. "I mean— you know, all the Drama Club guys, maybe. Hunky, but with brains."

"Great, all two of them," I said. "Bree, BHS is not overstocked with hot guys who also have brains."

"Okay, then eliminate the hunk requirement," Bree said. "I'd rather have a guy to talk to than one that can carry me around."

"Surprisingly good taste, given your age," Xander said. He looked at her speculatively. "You know… Whitey, I have an idea. Might require Giles to authorize it, though. C'mere a minute."

Xander and Whitey went into the study, came out five minutes later, Whitey looking thoughtful, but pleased, and Xander looking smug. They wouldn't talk about what they'd discussed, no matter how much Bree and the others begged and pleaded.

Monday morning, he came out when Elaine, Sunrise and I left for school, said, "Elaine, I'm going to follow you to the Winston Academy— I want to put a request to your principal."

"I didn't do it, whatever it was," Elaine said, grinning. "It was Sunrise!"

"Was not," Sunrise said quickly. "It was Kimber!"

"No, not that sort of request," Whitey said, grinning. "A surprise, but a good one, I think."

He followed the Bug, waited patiently while they dropped me off and kissed me goodbye (that always got stared at— me kissing two gorgeous girls goodbye, I mean— go figure), then followed them out. I went into school, and things were fine for a while.

Then I got a taste of what Buffy, Willow and Xander had gone through while going to high school on a Hellmouth.

I didn't like it much.

_Interlude:_

"Okay," Amy said, stepping out of the circle-in-progress on the basement floor. "It's starting, honey. I felt the first ripples. Started last night, probably. So… now we go to super-secret mode."

"I've been being careful as hell," Claudia said, taking Amy's hand and leading her upstairs. "No one's following me, no one knows where we live. And I wear the charm you made me when I talk to the locals."

"Sweet," Amy said. "I wonder what the boys think when they see Katie Holmes showing up to negotiate with them…?"

"You mean you think they actually think at that point?" Claudia snickered. "I sure don't.

"You hungry, babe?"

"Starved, actually," Amy admitted. "Shall we go get breakfast?"

"Name your restaurant," Claudia said. "I'm hungry, too."

"Cracker Barrel," Amy said. "Big breakfast is in order."

As they went to the car, Claudia asked, "So can you tell what came into town?"

"I can't tell, but I can make a good guess," Amy said. She grinned, as she got behind the wheel of the sexy little sports car that Claudia had bought her. "See, the build-up of forces will be fairly consistent. And as they build up, they will call more and more… obvious creatures. So the first things will be subtle. Sneaky. Not at all obviously monsters.

"My money's on either succubae— or incubi— or something like a djinn. A wish-granter that will twist the wish."

"Sounds nasty," Claudia said— and smiled a smile that Rose would have recognized, the same smile she'd worn when she murdered Kennedy, cold and hateful. "Where's it likely to show up?"

"Depends," Amy said. She thought for a moment, then said, "My money's on one of the two colleges. But I could be wrong. Sort of hard to tell, what with not being sure what it is that came.

"Still… it's a step. An escalation. And I'm sure our little Slayer group will hear about it… sooner or later."

"Later," Claudia said in a sweetly poisonous voice, "would be better. More people dead that way."

"I _so_ love how you think," Amy said, and reached over to stroke the inside of Claudia's thigh.

_Rose:_

Things went fine for first hour. No problem, no hassle, no huhu. But right at the start of second hour, things went straight to hell, without even bothering with a hand-basket.

I was leaving Computer Science II, headed for Chemistry, when I heard a scream of pure, blind terror— that ended in a gurgle.

Without even thinking, I started that way at a dead sprint, pushing people aside as gently as I could, but making the best speed possible. I came around a corner into the hall that ran up towards the cafeteria— and I froze.

Standing in the doorway of the girls' bathroom, standing over the bleeding body of a girl I didn't know, was an orc. Not a Lord of the Rings movie orc, but one right out of the Third Edition Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual. Five-six, a hundred and sixty pounds of solid muscle, gray-black hide, thick, greasy black hair, a heavy brow ridge, jutting, almost muzzle-like mouth full of jagged fangs. On its right arm, it wore a round wooden shield, and in its left hand it held a bloody broadsword.

"Holy shit!" I said, staring in disbelief. It looked up when I spoke— everyone else visible was screaming or standing mute in shock and terror— and growled at me in a guttural language I didn't understand. I had its attention, so I tried to keep it. "Hey! You! Ugly! Come over here, I've got something for you!"

It stalked towards me, growling, moving surprisingly quickly. I moved closer, stopped in the very defensive version of the cat stance, and waited. It kept coming, drew its sword back to swing— and I moved.

I went in close, inside its sword arm, and start driving punches into the ratty brown leather that covered its gut. It hunched in, tried to chop at me with the sword, and I went sideways, drove a kick behind its knee, dropped it to its knees on the indoor-outdoor carpeting of the hall. I pivoted on one foot, drove a wheel kick into the place where its neck and shoulder met, expecting to break the thing's neck. I knocked it over— but the heavy, bunched muscles there had kept me from killing it. It rolled away from me, thrusting back at me with the sword. I skipped back out of range, trying to see everywhere around me, to see if it was going to be able to attack another student.

"Rose! Rose, get back! Stay away from that— that thing!"

It was Miss Heller, my fencing coach and Drawing One teacher. She'd come out of the hall that ran into this one a little ways up, and was well out of range of any danger— but coming forward quickly.

"Miss Heller, stop!" I shouted, circling with the orc, watching for my moment. Damned thing just _had_ to be left handed, didn't it? "I've got this! This thing's too stupid to threaten me.

"But I don't suppose you've got a sword in your pocket, do you?"

The orc swung, a wide, sweeping, backhand slash at chest-level on me, and I ducked it, then darted forward, rolled under its return slash, and again kicked it behind the knee, putting it on its face on the carpet, then snapping a kick into where a human would keep a kidney. It didn't like that at all— but the angle was less than great, and I didn't really hurt it very much. I dove-and-rolled again, came up in the cat stance, my back to the door of the bathroom where this thing had come from.

"Rose are you—" Miss Heller started— then she screamed "DOWN!"

I went down sideways, turned it into a roll, came to my feet to see the second orc standing there with a longsword and a shield, recovering from the over-swing when it had missed me.

Longsword. Hello, lovely weapon!

I let the combat computer that any good martial arts student has programmed into their reflexes take over, giving it the directive "get that sword," then mentally stepping aside and letting it work.

I stepped into the second orc, fired a kick into his groin, leaned back out of the arc of his sword as his hands jerked down to his injured nads, punched the funny bone just above the elbow joint, making his hand spasm open, caught his sword hilt, blade pointing downwards, in my right hand, drove the blade up and back, shoving with all my Slayer-boosted strength, adding my left hand to the pommel for force. I felt the sword bite into hard muscles, then slide on through, heard the orc behind me, who'd charged in to kill me, bark-scream in pain as I reversed, jerked the sword free, spun as I stood, and cut the damned thing's head off.

Somebody barfed, the sour smell adding to the already orc-pungent air, and Miss Heller yelled, "More! Bathroom!"

I spun back around, saw four more, one in the door looking at its downed comrades, the other three jostling for a look.

"Hi, guys," I said softly. I skewered the one I'd nutted, getting it through the throat, killing it, then said to the others, "I don't suppose you'd like to go quietly back to whatever D and D game you popped out of, would you?"

The lead orc thrust his sword at me in response. I deflected it sideways, hard, then stepped in and powered a kick into its gut. It went backwards hard, knocked all four of them sprawling, and I stepped inside the bathroom, sword at the ready— and I once again became Captain Cuisinart.

The door didn't close behind me, and the idiotic students in the hall stood there and jostled each other for a look, until Miss Heller shoved her way in by main force, and held them back while she watched me.

Spin. Deflect, slash. Snap a parry, drive sword into chest, pull blade out, spin again, deflecting two reaching blades while spinning sword down, kick closer orc backwards, slash open gut of second orc, effectively killing him. Jump kick at one closest, knock him well clear of door, go under a slash from the one who just swung at me, drive the blade up through his gut and into his chest. Pull blade free as he falls, see last one charging at me, sword up over his head to bring down on my poor, delicate self. Spin out of path of sword, slash at exposed side, cut leather, no hide. Parry a backhanded blow from the orc _hard,_ leaving him bent over facing the floor, and chop his head off.

Well… almost. He pulled back as I swung down, and I didn't behead him so much as I half-beheaded him, cutting off everything on his skull from his upper lip upwards. Yuck!

"Natural twenty," I muttered as I straightened. "Take that, you chaotic evil son of a gnoll!"

I turned to the door, saw Miss Heller staring at me in total amazement, a bunch of kids behind her staring in a mixture of amazement and fear.

"I think someone should call the cops," I said, making myself breathe harder than I needed to for the sake of the 'secret identity.' I glanced back at the dead orcs, then added, "Or maybe, you know, Agents Mulder and Scully. I could make a case."

And a familiar voice, coming from behind Miss Heller, where I could see a familiar slice of super-fair skin and white-blond hair, bellowed, as it had on the day when all this started, _"WAY TO GO, ROSE!"_

I could only smile (just a little smile, the way I felt) and shake my head at my buddy Brian's enthusiasm.


	51. Chapter 51

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 51

_Interlude:_

Whitey had been home for twenty minutes, talking over the thing he'd arranged with the principal of the Winston Academy with Xander, Buffy, Sh'rin, Nancy, Vincent and Ballard, while Vivian taught a math class to the girls, when the phone rang. He picked it up, said, "Giles Academy, may I help you?"

"I have a problem," Rose said in his ear. "I'm in a Snyder."

"Crap on a stick," Whitey said, recognizing the Giles-Buffy-Xander-Willow established code word for a supernatural event at school. "How bad?"

"They're closing the school for the day, sending people home," Rose answered. "A girl got killed. And, um, the police are wanting to talk to me. And we have things that need removed from police custody. Corpses. Whitey… no joke, okay?

"I just killed a half a dozen freaking Dungeons and Dragons _orcs_ in my high school!"

"I'm on my way," Whitey said. "I'll bring Willow and… crap, can I get away with more than one?"

"Drop Willow outside, bring Buffy?" Rose suggested. "I'll bet Wil can take care of disposal from wherever."

"Good call," Whitey said. "Be there in fifteen minutes. Tell the part of the truth you can get away with."

"I will," Rose answered. "Don't worry, it's only Mom that I can't lie to— and maybe Dad, now."

"That's a relief," Whitey said. "Leaving now."

He hung up, looked at the others, said, "Rose just called in a Snyder. She had to kill six orcs at school. And she said 'orcs,' specifically Dungeons and Dragons orcs."

"Oh, shit," Buffy said. "You said Willow with you? How about me?"

"Yeah," Whitey said. "You're named on the temporary guardianship papers with me. Willow, we'll need you to get some bodies out of the hands of the police— orc bodies."

"I can destroy them," Willow said. "But I don't want to try teleporting them— that's still a nasty work."

"Good enough," Whitey said. "Xander, you're in charge while I'm gone. Vincent, get close to the girls, just in case this is a coordinated attack. Sh'rin, Ballard, you're on perimeter guard. Nancy, call the Winston Academy, say you heard about a disturbance at BHS, and wanted to check and make sure things were okay there. If there's a problem, be Buffy, give permission for Elaine and Dawn to come home."

Everyone agreed, and Whitey, Willow and Buffy went to the garage, grabbed a sedan and got out of there, making best possible speed for Bloomington High School.

They ended up parking in the visitors lot, and Willow got out, moved casually over to as close to the ambulances that sat in the lot as she could while Whitey and Buffy, armed with the court-stamped temporary guardianship papers giving Whitey primary guardianship of Rose, Elaine, Laurie and Linnea, and Buffy secondary guardianship, started working their way through the forest of cops to get to Rose.

It took several minutes to get inside, and several cops examining the papers, before Whitey and Buffy were ushered into the school's administrative offices, where they heard Rose's raised voice saying, "What part of 'I don't know' do you not understand, Detective? Do I need to put it in words of _less_ than one syllable! Would grunting and shaking my head get that message through to you?"

"Don't get lippy with me, girl!" a man's voice snapped back. "We've got six dead… things… and more than a dozen witnesses who saw _you_ kill them! That's six counts of murder— so maybe you'd better put a damper on your attitude and start talking to me!"

"You also have a dozen witnesses telling you that I fought to defend myself and the people around me, you worthless bag of flesh!" Rose said, her voice rising towards a yell. "And may I point out, detective, that the things I killed were plainly not human beings, and that charging me with murder, defined as the taking of a _human life,_ is going to be a lot of impossible!"

"We need to stop this," Whitey said. "Call that lawyer Giles has been using, get a recommendation for a criminal lawyer from him, please— I'll handle this."

"Girl, you don't seem to realize that you're in trouble," the detective snarled as Whitey went down the hall towards the office the voices were coming from. "But I'm going to make you realize it— Watkins, cuff her!"

"Excuse me," Whitey said, stepping into the office where the shouting was coming from even as Rose leapt to her feet and took the tiger stance in preparation for fending off the approaching cop and his handcuffs. Whitey locked his eyes on the suited man sitting at the desk of the school principal. "Detective, if you try to cuff that girl, your officer is going to need medical attention, and I'm going to slap both your department and you personally with lawsuits that will leave the town in the red for years, and you living in a refrigerator box for the rest of your life."

The uniformed officer froze, the detective stared, and Rose held her stance, muscles quivering with readiness and fear.

"Sit down, Rose," Whitey said quietly. "It's all right. DEFCON five, kiddo."

Rose slowly relaxed out of her combat stance, then sat down, staring with open contempt at the detective.

"Who the hell are you?" the detective snarled.

"I'm Rose's legal guardian, until such time as her mother and stepfather return to the United States," Whitey said, producing the paper that proved his statement, as well as his Illinois driver's license. "Who the hell are you?"

"Detective John Siegel," the detective said, examining the papers and the license with an insulting level of care. He looked up at Whitey, said, "She's under arrest for murder. We're cuffing her. Deal with that."

"Rose, don't resist," Whitey said— and smiled at the detective, a cold, hard smile, much like the one Giles had given to Faith outside of Wolfram and Hart's offices, when he'd told her that he fully expected Wolfram and Hart to kill Jerry Wentworth. "The detective doesn't seem to realize that I'm not just serious about suing— I'm looking forward to it."

"Look forward all you like," the detective said— and glared at the uniformed officer, who hadn't moved to cuff Rose yet. "It's not changing a thing."

Buffy came in then, ignored the cops, smiled at Rose, turned to Whitey and said, "I reached Daniel Burns, the lawyer Mr. Turpin recommended. He's on his way here, and he said that Rose should stay silent— and calm. If they arrest you, don't fight it, it's just them handing us a blank check.

"You okay, honey?"

"Little freaked," Rose allowed. She looked a little more pale than usual, and she was shivering a tiny bit. "The first one of those things… it killed a girl. I didn't know her, but… but it _killed_ her. I killed it, and the others, and… and now _this_ ass-goblin—" She indicated the detective, then shuddered a little more. "Okay, maybe a lot freaked."

"It's okay, honey," Buffy said, and knelt beside her, took her hands. "You saved people. Never mind the ass-goblin, you saved people. You did good."

"Watkins, if you don't cuff that girl in the next ten seconds, I'll have your goddamn badge!" Detective Siegel snarled.

"And if you do cuff her," said a slightly high pitched but very authoritative voice from the doorway, _"I_ will have your badge. And have you up on criminal charges. It's your choice, Officer Watkins."

A man in his fifties stood in the doorway, holding a briefcase. He wore a dark blue suit, a lighter blue shirt under the jacket, and a gray tie. His white hair had been neatly cut, and he wore a small, neat mustache. He wasn't terribly tall, maybe five-eight, but he was in good shape for his age, and fairly crackled with barely suppressed energy.

"You would be Miss Summers," the man said as Buffy stood. "I'm Daniel Burns."

"You sure got here quick," Buffy said, blinking in surprise.

"My office is right across the street," Burns said. He looked around, nodded at Rose, and said, "And you must be Rose. Rose, have you said anything to the detective?"

"He asked what happened, and I told him," Rose said, sounding tired and sad. "He started picking at what I told him, trying to trip me up, get me to say I did something wrong— and all I did was try to save people! I killed those things, sure, but they killed one girl, and tried to kill _me!_ And this _prick_ wants to arrest me for that!"

"I see," Burns said. "Well, I'm guessing that there were witnesses, so that's all right— we'll just deal with this downtown. Cooperate with the officers, Rose— please?"

"Yes, sir," Rose said, and stood, still trembling, but not looking ready to fight.

"And when did detective Siegel advise you of your rights, Rose?" Burns asked as the officer stepped forward with the cuffs.

"He didn't," Rose said.

"Stop right there, officer!" Burns said, his voice suddenly cold and razor sharp. The uniformed officer froze in place— and Siegel went pale. "Detective Siegel, are you going to tell me that you interviewed a young lady you suspect of committing a crime, a _juvenile_ in the eyes of the law, and you didn't explain to her the rights she has under Miranda vs. Arizona? That you didn't offer her the option of having counsel present? Is that what I'm hearing, here?"

"No, I read her rights to her when we sat down," Siegel said, his face twitching. "She said she'd talk to me, and—"

"You lying sack of shit!" Rose cried. "You didn't say anything to me about my rights! You didn't even offer to let me call home! You just started in with 'What did you do,' you never said a word about anything else!"

"She's lying," Siegel said quickly. "I told her her rights, asked if she wanted to call home, and she said—"

"You did no such thing!" a cold, angry voice said from the doorway. "You are lying through your teeth, Detective Siegel."

The others looked around to see a lean, muscular man in his forties, brown hair going thin on top, and an outraged expression on his face standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. Dunlap," Rose said in a small voice.

"Hello, Miss Killian," Dunlap said, his voice no warmer than it had been while talking to the detective. "Counselor Burns, I'm Thomas Dunlap, Assistant Principal. My office is right next door, and the walls are quite thin. I heard every word that was said in here, and Miss Killian is telling the truth. This… person never said a word about rights, never offered her a chance to call home, did, in fact, start hammering her with questions."

"Would you be willing to testify to that in a court of law, Mr. Dunlap?" Burns asked.

"Absolutely," Dunlap said. "Make no mistake, I have issues with Rose Killian— but those issues do not in any way make her less deserving of her rights than any other person. In fact, that she did something that had to be disturbing in order to protect other students has me willing to believe that I might one day be able to overcome those issues.

"Miss Killian… I don't like you. But liking you isn't part of my job. And you earned points in the good column today."

"Thank you, Mr. Dunlap," Rose said. "I'm trying to behave, really I am."

"Since I haven't had to speak to you other than about getting loud in the halls this year, I'm willing to accept that," Dunlap said. "Keep it up for the rest of this year, and I might even start to like you."

"Well," Burns said. "We're done here. Miss Summers, Mr.— Penobscot, isn't it? You two may take Rose and go. If you could come by my office sometime soon, we can discuss the suit you'll want to bring against the Bloomington Police Department— and against Detective Siegel specifically."

"You are not taking that girl out of here!" Siegel snapped, bouncing to his feet. "Watkins, I told you to cuff her!"

"You do it, Detective," Watkins said. "I want no part of this."

"I'll have your badge, you stupid little shit!" Siegel roared.

"Not before I have yours, Detective, I assure you," Burns said calmly. "If someone from your department wishes to speak to Rose about what happened here today, they can call my office, and I'll arrange it with her guardians— a supervised interview, with both myself and her guardians present.

"But under no circumstances will we grant an interview if you are present, Detective Siegel. On that, you may rest assured."

"Rose Killian, you are under arrest!" Siegel snarled. "You have the right to remain silen—"

"That's enough," said yet another voice from the doorway. "Excuse me, sir, I need to get through."

Dunlap stepped aside and in came a heavy-set man in his late fifties or early sixties, with iron-gray hair and a face that looked heavily lined and still somehow friendly.

"Siegel, get out of here," the older man said. "Go home. You're suspended pending investigation. Give me your gun and badge and go home."

"You can't— this brat killed six— six things!" Siegel said. "We don't even know what they are, sir, but they were—"

"They were attacking her," the older man said. "And they had already attacked and killed— without warning or any sort of threat— a fourteen year-old girl.

"Siegel, you're so far out of line that you make me sick. You've lied to an officer of the courts, you've lied to this girl's legal guardians, and you've tried to make her out to be the liar.

"Gun. Badge. Now!"

Without another word, Siegel took his gun and badge and laid them on the desk. He glared at Rose, glared at Thomas Dunlap, looked at Whitey and Daniel Burns as though he wanted to hit them, and pushed his way out of the room.

"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen," the man said, sighing and moving sit on one corner of the desk. "I'm Carter Holman, Chief of Detectives with the Bloomington Police Department. I can assure you that Mr. Siegel will not work for my department for any longer than it takes me to convene an inquiry into his conduct.

"Now… young lady, you look decidedly shaken up. I think you should go home with your guardians, here, and get some rest. And I'd appreciate it if, when you feel up to it, you'd have Counselor Burns contact us to arrange an interview— with both of your guardians and Mr. Burns present."

"I can tell it now, sir," Rose said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. "It… I think it would be easier to tell it now."

"Are you sure?" Holman asked. "It can wait, if you need time."

"I'm sure," Rose said. "It will make it easier to get that rest you were talking about."

"All right, but if you need to take a break, or to stop, say so, and we'll do so," Holman said, standing and sweeping up Siegel's badge and gun, dropping them into a pocket of his jacket. "Mr. Dunlap, is there anyplace around here that might be more comfortable for five— no, six, I'd like you present— six people to sit and talk?"

"We can commandeer the faculty lounge," Dunlap said. "Though it might be better if I were to find Principal Garrett to accompany you— better for Miss Killian, easier for her. She and I… have a history of not getting along."

"No way," Rose said. She stepped around Buffy, stood in front of Thomas Dunlap. "Mr. Dunlap, you don't upset me. Having you there is fine with me. I was a problem for you most of the first two years I went here, and I know it. It wasn't always my fault— but it was enough of the time that I can't say you didn't have a reason to not like me.

"But you came in here and you told my friends and my lawyer that that ass-goblin Siegel was lying. You didn't have to do that. You played _fair,_ Mr. Dunlap— and I want somebody around for this school who plays fair."

Dunlap looked a bit stunned— then smiled a slow, rueful smile, and said, "All right. In that case, Miss Killian, I'd certainly like to hear what happened from the source— instead of the wild rumors that have you tearing off locker doors, using them to beat monsters into submission, then shoving their heads into toilets and giving them swirlies until they drowned."

"Mr. Dunlap… could you maybe call me Rose?" she asked. "I know, we aren't friends, but… you don't do the last name thing with the other kids. Makes me feel… old."

"All right, Rose," Dunlap said. "Come on, folks, the faculty lounge is this way."

They followed Dunlap out of the principal's office and down the hall, Buffy walking with an arm around Rose's waist companionably.

"Please, Rose," Buffy said in a low voice as they walked, "tell me that the rumors of death by swirly are completely untrue."

"They are," Rose said. "But… you know high school."

"Sadly, I do," Buffy said.

They got to the faculty lounge, got settled. Detective Holman did it right. He told Rose that she was not a suspect in a crime, but that, due to there being a death involved, he needed to interview her, and he read her her rights. She consented to the interview, consented to it being recorded, and Whitey and Mr. Burns concurred. Everyone gave their names for the recording, and Rose told her tale.

Wisely, Rose prefaced her story with her credentials.

"Before I start," Rose said, "I think it will be easier for those of you I haven't sparred to accept what I'm going to tell you if you keep this in mind; I'm a ranked kung fu instructor in the Tiger and Leopard School, and I have a blue sash in Hwa Rang Do. Just… keep that in mind. Might make what I tell you easier to believe."

Then she told it, straight through, in a dry, matter of fact voice, her face carefully composed. Her occasional shiver was all that gave away her upset, and drew no comment from anyone.

"Then… then I saw what the orcs had done to that girl, and I got sick and… and I called Whitey at home, and by that time there were cops here and… and here we are."

"All right," Detective Holman said. "Rose, thank you. I see no reason to charge you in these matters, none at all. It isn't my decision in the end… but I do have the ear of the State's Attorney.

"Now… I think you need to get home, get some rest— or possibly some time on the heavy bag."

"I prefer the kick bag," Rose said. "But… right now? No. I just want to lie down."

"You do that," Det. Holman said. "Thank you again, Rose."

"If you need anything further, Detective, go ahead and call us first," Whitey said. "I think that we won't need to have you go through Mr. Burns, just having him present will be enough."

When they went outside, Dunlap followed them to their car. At the car, he said, "Rose… thank you for what you did. You probably saved a lot of lives."

"You're welcome, Mr. Dunlap," Rose said, and managed a ghost of a smile, and got in the back seat, where Willow was already sitting. Buffy got in on Rose's other side, and she and Willow pressed close, holding Rose against her ever-increasing shivers.

Whitey got them home, and Buffy took Rose straight upstairs, put her to bed, and, when Rose started crying very quietly, laid down with her and held her until she fell asleep.

Ten minutes or so after Rose fell asleep, Buffy heard Willow's voice in her head.

_Buffy?_ Willow said telepathically. _Whitey sort of needs to talk to you. About this whole mess, and what we should do about it_.

_I really don't want to leave Rose alone right now,_ Buffy sent back.

_We figured,_ Willow said mentally. _Relief is on its way. And before you see who, be aware— I've read her mind, and without pulling people from school— which we don't want to do, in case this happens elsewhere— this is the best possible comfort for her_.

_Okay,_ Buffy replied, wondering who was coming.

The door opened a moment later, and Sh'rin walked in, failing to surprise Buffy at all. Ballard coming in behind Sh'rin, though, did surprise Buffy. But if having him around would comfort Rose, that didn't bother Buffy. She got up carefully, hugged Sh'rin, hugged Ballard, then slipped out of the room and went to talk to Whitey even as they lay down on either side of Rose.


	52. Chapter 52

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 52

_Interlude:_

Rose woke up half an hour later, cuddled between two warm bodies, and smiled just a little. She shifted a little, felt Sh'rin's arms tighten around her some (she knew that it was Sh'rin behind her by body type), and… who the heck was in front of her?

She opened her eyes to see a broad expanse of male chest, covered by a snug blue T-shirt, and felt Ballard stroke her shoulder lightly.

"This is kind of different," Rose said, smiling a little and worming closer to Ballard, feeling Sh'rin come with her. "But… nice."

"Willow said that you would feel better for having two of us with you," Sh'rin said. "And that you would not mind Ballard being one of the two."

"Not at all," Rose said. She looked up into his deep green eyes, saw the concern there, and said, "Right now, anybody who loves me is good. And when I love them, too… even better.

"Besides, I've said it already— if I was going to try a man, it'd be this one."

"Flatterer," Ballard said softly. "But thank you." He squeezed her shoulders, but made no other change in how he was holding her.

"Welcome," Rose said. She shifted a little, wormed still closer. "And that you aren't trying to take advantage of that… yeah. Written in stone, Ballard. If I decide to try my luck with your half of the species, it'll be with you."

"If you decide to do that," Ballard said, smiling at her, "I'm afraid I'll have to insist that Sh'rin, Dawn and Elaine all be okay with it— and tell me so. Past that… I'll cooperate with a smile on my face. You're lovable, Rose— and so cute that it's distracting."

"Dawn and I would be fine with it, I tell you now," Sh'rin said. She leaned over and kissed Rose's cheek. "And I think Elaine would be, as well. But I do not see any reason to worry about it. What is meant to be will happen. Waiting will show what is to be."

"Yeah, I like that attitude," Rose said. "And… right now I feel about as sexy as a moldy slice of bread, anyway."

"Why so hurt, love?" Sh'rin asked. "You have fought monsters before, and not been in such pain. I would understand, to better help."

"The girl," Rose said. "Sh'rin, that girl, they… they _killed_ her! No reason, just… just cut her down! She was only fourteen, and they cut her down, they killed her, and the sons-of-bitches did it in _my school!_

"If I'd just been a little faster, if I hadn't been so caught up in what Mrs. Lyle was teaching us that I didn't put anything away until the bell rang— that girl shouldn't have died, dammit! It's my school, and I shouldn't have let anybody die!"

"Stop that!" Ballard said sharply. He raised up on one elbow, looked at Rose and frowned. "Don't you dare do that to yourself, Rose Killian! You can't be everywhere, you can't save everyone— and you can't see the future! You had no way of knowing what was coming, and you cannot— can NOT!— blame yourself for this!"

"She didn't deserve that!" Rose sobbed. "She didn't deserve it, she shouldn't have died, I'm a Slayer, I'm supposed to protect people!"

"You did!" Ballard said. "Six orcs with swords, Rose— what would they have done if you hadn't been there? How many more would have died? Been hurt, maybe crippled?

"You saved dozens of people, Rose— and the girl who died was not your fault!"

"Rose, my love, you cannot hurt yourself so," Sh'rin said, also raising up on one elbow, leaning over and brushing Rose's hair out of her face. "You have gifts, my Undefeated one— but no one has such gifts that they can save everyone! Not even a Slayer, not even she who was chosen by the Prime to be second in command."

"Rose," Ballard said, "After the night when Jenna took out Linnea's parents, and your father's ghost kept her from going too far with that, I asked Dawn about your dad, who he was, what he'd done, how he died. And I have to say… honey, he'd hate that you're doing this to yourself.

"He had to lose some, Rose— no one can outsmart every fire, no one can get every person clear before they die.

"What would he say to you right now, Rose? Am I completely crazy, or would he tell you that you're trying to take too much responsibility, responsibility for things that you could not possibly have changed?"

Rose didn't answer, just sobbed harder, clung more tightly to Ballard, let Sh'rin hold her more tightly. She fell asleep again shortly, but didn't sleep for long. After forty minutes or so of deep, unmoving sleep, she woke up, hugged Ballard immediately, rolled over and hugged Sh'rin, then spoke.

"Thank you for being here, you guys," Rose said softly. "And for talking sense to me. You're right— both of you. I can't save everybody— and Daddy would hate this, hate me… doing this.

"But if I find who's responsible… I'm not holding back. They go down."

"That is as it should be," Sh'rin said, and leaned over to kiss Rose, tenderly and only a little sexually. Then she smiled and said softly, "Still you are the Undefeated… with a little help."

"A lot of help," Rose said. "A _lot_ of help. Ballard? Surprise!"

She kissed him. Not _quite_ sexually, but firmly, and with no… sense of reserve.

"Pleasant surprise, thanks," he said when she backed away.

"Hey, you're right here cuddling me, too," Rose said. "Can't let Sh'rin get all the rewards."

She lay silently for a few minutes, then sighed and sat up. "Okay… bathroom, then I want to do some forms. Then… Sh'rin, feel up to some swordplay?"

"With you?" Sh'rin said, and grinned. "Rose, such is always a treat."

"Flatterer," Rose said. "Once I'm wound down some, I want to see what everyone thinks about what happened, how it happened— and how to make sure it doesn't happen twice."

An hour later, Rose ate when told to (with little enthusiasm until she'd had a few bites, then eagerly), then went to the library, where Whitey, Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Ballard were waiting for her and Sh'rin.

"So, any ideas as to what the hell brought a gang of orcs into my school this morning?" Rose asked, after assuring the others she felt much better.

"Not yet," Willow said. "I found the place they came in after I got rid of the bodies— about which nothing has been said yet— but the energies used… not familiar. Not demonic, either. Something… else."

"Can you prevent it from happening again?" Whitey asked. "Ward against it, somehow?"

"I'm afraid not," Willow said. Then she corrected herself, said, "Well, I could— on a single location with a lot of work— but the location can't be much bigger than a ten foot diameter circle. So… if whosis can move the entry point, yeah, no good. Also? Wards like that involve a big honking magic circle and stuff that people would probably sorta notice in a girl's bathroom."

"Damn," Whitey said. "Okay… suggestions?"

"I could see if I can get hired as a guidance counselor," Buffy said, sounding about half-serious. "Worked in Sunnydale."

"But without Robin pulling strings, I don't think you'd get it, Buffy," Xander said. "Sorry, but— you aren't qualified."

"Security guard?" Buffy said hopefully.

"They don't use them," Rose said. "No. No, but… look, why don't I start going in early? Looking around for stuff that isn't good? Then if there's a problem, I can call home for backup, and we can decide what to do then."

"It's our only option," Whitey said. "At least until we know more.

"But you be careful, Rose. I know you're angry, but you can't let that rule."

"I'll be careful," she said, sighing. "I will— I promise. But… I want this thing. This is _my school_— the bad guys don't get to screw around with it."

"Female territoriality at its very best," Xander said, and shot her a grin. "Rose… you sound like Buffy."

"Thank you," Rose said. "Tells me I'm on the right track."

"Damn skippy," Willow said.

"Aw, you guys are gonna make me blush," Buffy said.

"We try," Xander said. He looked at Rose, said, "You know, if you keep this up, maybe we should send your class officers to the old Sunnydale High website— it's still up, wasn't hosted at the school. We direct them to the class of ninety-nine who's who, maybe they'll get the idea, and name you the Class Protector for two-thousand-five."

"They named you Class Protector?" Rose asked Buffy.

"Still got my protective umbrella," Buffy said with a grin.

"That's so cool," Rose said. Then she frowned. "But… no offense, Buffy, because following in your footsteps is not a thing to be upset by, but… I really hope it never escalates to the point where they have to name _anybody_ Class Protector."

"No offense taken, Rose," Buffy said. "Now… have a little surprise for you."

"What sort of surprise?" Rose asked— and her cell phone, clipped to her belt, rang.

"That sort," Buffy said, and grinned.

Thinking it would be Elaine, calling to make sure that she was all right, Rose didn't even look at the caller ID window on her cell phone before she flipped it open and said, "Hello."

"Hi, honey," Kelly said. "Buffy tells us you've had a bad day, are you okay?"

"Mom!" Rose said, giving Buffy a look so loaded with gratitude that it almost involved leaking tears. As Buffy made a little bow in response to the look, she and the others quietly left the room. "I'm okay, Mom— better, anyway. Did… did Buffy tell you what happened?"

"Yes, sweetie, she did," Kelly said. "She also said that you were reacting to it much more than you had to previous fights. Was it because of the girl who died, Rose?"

"Yes, ma'am," Rose said, gulping tears against a fresh wave of sadness. "But… I'm better now, Mom. Ballard and Sh'rin helped me get my head back on straight. I know it wasn't my fault, now, but—"

"You were blaming yourself!" Kelly said. Rose could almost hear her mother's head shake. "Thank god for Sh'rin and Ballard, daughter mine. If they hadn't done that, I'd have to get Rupert to bring me home early just so I could kick your butt! And I'd hate that— I love Ireland, dear. I love you more— but you'd have had a hard time living that one down."

"I'm okay, Mom, really," Rose said. "Or… I will be, when the pig son of a dog father that did this is deader than hell!

"I'm going to do it, Mom. _I'm_ going to kill it. And if I can't, for whatever reason, then I'm going to stand by and cheer for whoever does it.

"That thing's dead— it's just not gotten the message, not yet."

"Then you kill it," Kelly said. "You _end it,_ Rose, and you make your school safe. But you be damned careful while you do it!"

"I will, Mom," Rose said. "I'm going to do the last thing I ever thought I'd do tonight— I'm going to sit down to _study_ with my Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual. I'm going to memorize the strengths and weaknesses of every monster in the book."

"All right, that sounds like a plan," Kelly said. She laughed a little, and said, "Well, you always were a quick study. I'll bet you do it."

"I may make a crib sheet," Rose admitted. "Depends— if these things that come through are all as common as orcs, I won't need it, but if it gets into the freakier critters, well… I just hope it doesn't."

"Then so do I," Kelly said. "So… anything good happening?"

"Oh, the couple days after you guys left were great— Slayer-Fest Oh-three, it rocked. Sparring, storytelling, more sparring… it was great," Rose said. "And Elaine and I are taking each other to our school's Halloween dances. Oh, and Whitey's got something sneaky up his sleeve. Involves the Winston Academy, whatever it is."

"He talked it over with Rupert and I," Kelly said. "After Buffy called about what happened at school, he put the idea to us— and we approved it. I think he'll announce things at dinner tonight."

"That's cool, I can wait," Rose said. "Let him have his moment."

"Yes, that's decent of you— he loves to surprise people," Kelly agreed. "Honey, would you like to talk to Rupert? He's right here."

"Please," Rose said. "But I want to talk to you again before we hang up."

"All right, Rose," Kelly said. "Here's Rupert."

The phone audibly changed hands, and Giles said, "Are you all right, Rose?"

"I'm okay, Dad," Rose said, grinning in delight at saying that last word. "Little bit of a stupid moment, but Sh'rin and Ballard slapped me about the head until it was sitting straight on my shoulders again."

"I'll have to thank them," Giles said, "for taking such good care of you."

"Feel free, because they did," Rose said. "Whitey said the only reason they didn't call Elaine and Sunrise home was because they thought they should maintain a presence at Winston, too. Since they couldn't bring them home, Sh'rin and Ballard made excellent calm-Rose-down people— they cuddle great."

Giles said, after a brief hesitation, "Excellent. Rose, I'm just relieved that you're recovered. You mustn't blame yourself— that way lay madness. You did the best anyone could have done, and better than many. Your mother and I had the story from Buffy, and she from you— so I know that you did an excellent job.

"Now… one quick item of business, then you can talk to Kelly again. Rose, can you get your sword into the school with you for a few days, and not get in trouble for it?"

"Yes, Dad," Rose said. She sighed in relief, and said, "I was going to ask about that— thanks for thinking of it. I can use another sword— but that one's _my sword._ I'm best with it."

"Very good," Giles said. "I do understand about personal weapons being best for fighting.

"All right, Rose, your mother and I will be home late Sunday afternoon. I'll see you then. Here's your mother."

This time, it took significantly longer to exchange the phone from one set of hands to the other, and Kelly's first words after taking the phone back explained why.

"So, Ireland's Flower found it pleasant to cuddle with a guy, huh?" Kelly asked, her tone deliberately light and almost-teasing. "Is this a sign that I've got hope for grandchildren sooner than I can expect them from the as-yet-unknown-gendered baby that I'm carrying now?"

"Well, I don't— Mom, honestly, I don't know," Rose said, blushing. "But… well, there's always Laurie."

"True, and her kids will be my grandchildren as much as yours or nameless's will be," Kelly said. Her voice softened a little, and she added, "But honey… they won't be your father's grandchildren. That matters, too. Not enough to ever get me to ask you to do something you aren't comfortable with… but enough that I _hope_ your enjoying cuddling with Ballard is maybe a hint that you aren't gay so much you are bisexual with a strong preference for women."

"That… could be," Rose said. "I mean… Mom, honesty time. I… Sh'rin kissed me, when I woke up the second time, after they got my head on straight. And after that… well, I kissed Ballard. And yeah, that was nice. It wasn't a super-sexy kiss or anything, but it wasn't completely not-sexy, either. And it was… nice.

"But at the same time… too much honesty time, maybe, but I don't want any half-truths between us.

"At that same time as kissing him was nice, I don't think… Mom, I can imagine myself doing some things with Ballard that are definitely sex acts. But I can't quite imagine actual… actual intercourse."

"Well, how long have you been thinking about that sort of thing, Rose?" Kelly asked, her voice level and friendly.

"Not long at all, really," Rose admitted. "Only since… well, I started thinking about it a little Friday night, when Sh'rin, Sunrise and Ballard all went out on a date."

"So… maybe you'll start thinking about it, someday," Kelly said. "Or maybe you won't, honey— and that's fine, too. I love you, I love Elaine, I love Dawn and Sh'rin. If the four of you are happy as you are… that's enough. But every parent hopes for grandchildren, and I'm still catholic enough that I hope for that a lot."

"That's reasonable," Rose said. "Mom… thanks for not pushing."

"Oh, believe me, not pushing is easy," Kelly said. Rose could hear the smile on her mother's face as she continued. "Not only am I already so proud of you that it hurts in a really delightful way, I approve of the people you love. Then add in that I really don't want you pregnant until you're eighteen at _least,_ and not pushing? That's an easy thing."

They talked about little things for a couple of minutes longer, then Kelly told Rose that she loved her, accepted return sentiments, promised to pass the same on to Giles, and they hung up.

Rose sat for a minute, smiling at how good it felt to talk to her mom and dad, then got up and went to see if she could find Buffy, to see if the Prime Slayer might feel like sparring.

_Elaine:_

So at the end of second hour, Mrs. Anders, my English III teacher, gives me a message to call home, and to do so now, as it's "urgent." She had a planning period next, so she let me use my cell phone in her room, stuck around right outside so that I could have privacy, but also get a late pass for third hour if I needed it.

I called, and Xander answered.

"It's Elaine, is everything okay?" I asked.

"We hope it is," Xander said. "Don't entirely know, just yet. Elaine, has anything weird happened at school? Anything at all?"

"Not that I've heard about, Xander," I said. "What's going on?"

"Okay, well… Rose is okay, Elaine— but she phoned in a Snyder at BHS." Xander drew a deep breath, said, "She had to kill a bunch of Dungeons and Dragons orcs, but they killed another girl first— someone she didn't know, thank god, but still… she's upset. They're closing BHS, and I guess she's talking to the cops. Whitey and Buffy went to get her, and took Wil along to get rid of the orcs before someone gets too close a look at them."

"Damn it," I said. "Xander… if Rose needs me, will you call me out of school? Please?"

"If she needs you, yes," Xander said. "If she can hold it together until school's over, Elaine… well, we'd like to maintain a Slayer presence there all day, if Rose is okay."

"I… okay," I said, trying not to sound mad. I got the situation, I did— but I wanted to go to Rose. "Okay, I'll stay, if Rose can be okay without me."

"Thanks, Elaine," Xander said. "Listen, I'd like you to talk to Kimber, see if she can set up something that might give her a little warning if something supernatural happens there, so she can warn you. I'd really like for nobody else to get killed."

"I'll see her in my next class, pass her a note then," I said. "Are you telling Sunrise, or should I?"

"Nancy's on the phone with her right now," Xander said. "We wanted you both warned as fast as possible."

"Okay, that's good," I said. "Thanks, Xander. Call me if Rose needs me."

"I will," he said. "Promise. Be careful, Elaine."

"I will be," I assured him, and hung up. I went out to the hall, got a late pass for World History from Mrs. Anders, assured her that things were okay at home, they'd just wanted me to know that something had happened at BHS, since my girlfriend went there.

Mrs. Anders looked at me a little oddly, and said, "I thought you and Dawn Summers were… seeing each other."

"We are," I said, blushing. "It's… complicated, Mrs. Anders. But she knows about Rose, and vice-versa."

"Kids," Mrs. Anders said, shaking her head ruefully. "I swear, I love you all— but you're all completely insane."

"Only mostly insane," I said. "You met Rose, Mrs. Anders, at… at Mom and Dad's visitation. She's the little redhead."

"The one who threw out that wretch from the airline?" Mrs. Anders said, and smiled when I nodded. "Oh, yes, I remember her. So tiny, and she handled that miserable man like he was nothing. I approve of her.

"Well, Elaine, if you're happy, and so are your girlfriends, I'll admit that maybe you aren't insane. But grant me that it's at least unusual?"

"I can give you that," I said. "Thanks for waiting for me, Mrs. Anders."

I went to class, sat down next to Sunrise— she looked a little tense, but only a little— in the desk on one side of me, Kimber in the desk on the other side of me. I wrote a note to Kimber, explaining what Xander had asked, and she gave me a nod after I'd passed it to her. While Mr. Kimmel was writing on the board, putting up some notable facts about early Roman history, she pulled an old beeper from her purse— well the outer case of a beeper, the case looked empty— and dropped in a few items she took out with it. A hearing aid battery, a part of a comic book page, folded tightly, a dried leaf, and a tiny pewter pentagram (a charm from an inexpensive necklace, I think). She then cupped her hands around the whole thing, and, after making sure no one was looking at her, whispered a few words. For just a moment, I saw dim golden light pulse out from between her fingers, then it faded. She glanced at it, gave me a thumbs up to indicate "all clear," and dropped it in the pocket of her blazer.

I twitched my way through the day, but it stayed calm. As soon as we were out of our last class (Dance, which Sunrise and I had together), we headed for home at the best speed I thought I could avoid getting arrested at. We made good time— by this time I knew where the cops were hanging out and running radar— and got home at three-ten, parked the car, and headed inside.

Rose was sitting on the couch in the living room, snuggled up to Chantelle, her ear against Chantelle's belly, a look of delight on her face. She heard us, looked up, came over and slid into my arms for a long, tight hug, before turning her face up to be kissed.

I kissed her, held her a moment more, then let her kiss Sunrise. After they broke, Rose came to sit on the couch between us, as Chantelle slid down to make room for us, then leaned lightly and companionably against me.

"You okay, Rose?" I asked. "Really okay?"

"I am now," she said. She kissed me again, said, "I was messed up for a while, but… I got over it. Thanks to first Buffy holding me for a while, then Sh'rin and Ballard. They cuddled me and talked sense to me. Then Buffy called Mom and Dad, and they called and talked to me. Then I sparred Buffy, then I showered, then Chantelle let me do something inexpressibly cool— and listening to little Jocelyn Kelly's heartbeat got rid of the last of my doldrums.

"Now… you and Sunrise are home, I'm fine. And I will stay fine. But once I've found and killed the thing behind what happened at school today…? Yeah, then I'll be better than fine."

We talked for a couple of minutes, then the doorbell rang. I got up to get it, arrived just behind Willow, who was closer by virtue of being on her way downstairs when it rang. I decided to stay with her— just in case. Kind of a tense day, you know?

Willow opened the door to reveal a really hot blond lady, about twenty-five years old, around five-nine, athletic, but with C-cup breasts. Her face was a near-perfect oval, rounded and gentle, very pretty, and her eyes brown.

"Uh, hi," Wil said, seeming a bit stunned (not that I blamed her— the lady really was hot). "Can I help you?"

The woman smiled a little nervously and said, "Hello. I'm looking for Rose Killian… have I found the right place?"

"Oh, sure," Willow said. She stepped back, motioned our visitor in. "Come in, please."

"I'll get Rose," I said, and went back to the living room to call her.

She came, looking a mix of curious and ready to fight— but relaxed as soon as she saw the visitor.

"Miss Heller!" Rose said, and relaxed (and caused me to relax— I recognized the name of her fencing coach). "Hi, come on in."

The woman came in, and promptly made me like her— she looked Rose over quickly, and said, "You look better, Rose— I was worried about you this morning."

"I'm much better," Rose said. "Comes from having people I love and who love me work at taking care of me.

"Guys, this is Lydia Heller, my fencing coach. Miss Heller, this is my friend Willow Rosenberg, who also teaches the students here— mostly computer science, but she can teach most of the sciences. And this—" Rose took my hand, pulled me forward, kissed my cheek. "— is the reason I was able to spare you having to talk to me about crushing on you again; my girlfriend, Elaine Marshall."

Willow shook Miss Heller's hand, seeming to be a little gone in lust still, then I shook her hand.

"Rose… can you separate school and not school enough to trust yourself with calling me Lydia when we aren't in school, and Miss Heller when we are?" Lydia asked.

"I have no problems doing it with my kung fu instructor, I can't see having a problem with doing it with you." Rose said, smiling in glee. "Thank you— Lydia."

"You're very welcome," Lydia said. "Now, since you're okay, I should probably—"

"Ack, no!" Rose said. "You can't just leave! Come in, meet my friends— or, if I'm gonna be honest, my family, just not by blood."

"Well, all right," Lydia said. "If you're sure…."

"Absolutely sure," Rose said. "And I know they'll enjoy meeting you— after all, it's not just the kung fu that lets me use a sword as well as I do, and they all appreciate that particular skill."

Rose got everyone not busy into the living room— even the newbies— and introduced them, opting for student, teacher, and administrator as titles, plus calling everyone friends and family. (Diane Hodges she introduced as a counselor.) Then she led Lydia outside, where Xander and Whitey were taking advantage of the nice weather and collaborating on a grilled meal. Whitey she introduced as the assistant principal of the Giles Academy, and Xander as "the poor guy who gets to do all the jobs nobody else does— a lot of the administrative details, a lot of the maintenance— Vincent helps with that— and pretty much all of the repairs."

"It's definitely a pleasure to meet you, Lydia," Whitey said, after they'd been introduced, and Rose and I had gotten drinks for the eight who were staying outside (Lydia, Whitey, Xander, Willow, Buffy, Chantelle and ourselves). "I've seen Rose fence, as opposed to using a sword in the kung fu style, and I have to admit, I'm impressed. You obviously earned your Olympic medal, to be able to teach so well."

Lydia seemed wowed by the mansion, and more wowed by the grounds, kept staring around in awe even as she answered.

"Yes, and I'm glad of it," Lydia said. "She's integrated the two styles, plainly— I saw evidence of both today. And she saved a lot of lives… including possibly mine. I'd have had to try and get the students out of there, and I think that would have made me a target."

"Yes, we're very proud of her," Whitey said, and grinned at Rose. "She did it right."

"Yes, and she must be Supergirl, too," Lydia said. "I really expected her to be asleep, if not in a hospital bed."

"Really?" Xander said. "How come?"

"When she saw… saw that Wendy Farmer was dead, died from the first blow, Rose dropped the sword she'd been using," Lydia said, watching Rose for signs that she should stop talking. Seeing none, she continued. "I caught it— and that thing was heavy— low-grade steel, I guess, and… well, I figured adrenaline had kept her going, and she'd be a wreck by now. That blade weighed seven or eight pounds at least, maybe more."

"I did nap a while," Rose said. "But really, Lydia, I'm okay."

"I'm glad— but still amazed," Lydia said. She smiled a little said, "I'm also amazed at you, young lady. You kept your head so damned well— you need to look at being a cop, or something similar. Being able to keep your head in a crisis, that's a priceless gift, Rose."

"You didn't freak, either," Rose pointed out. "In fact, you were really good— and I like that you were so worried about me. Made me feel good. Still does."

"On that note," Whitey said, visibly reaching a decision, "Lydia, will you stay for dinner? It's no trouble, before you say a word, and people who make Rose feel good are definitely a good idea to have around, after what she had to do today."

"In that case, yes, I will stay," Lydia said. "Thank you, Whitey."

Soon enough, my irrepressible Rose had gone inside, come out with fencing masks, jackets, and a couple of foils— and she held them up to Lydia with a raised eyebrow.

"Rose… you're nuts!" Lydia said, laughing and standing up. "But… you're also my favorite fencing partner. You're on!"

The jacket Rose had for her was a little loose— it belonged to Giles— but not bad. The mask fit fine, with all that hair to pad it (and Willow practically leaped to help Lydia get her hair wound up and tucked in the mask), and the foil Lydia visibly liked. (It was the one that Sunrise used when fencing Buffy, so about the right length.)

Soon, we were all treated to watching Rose fence an Olympic Bronze Medal winner, and it really _was_ a treat— watching them felt nothing like a sporting event, and a lot like a pirate movie. They danced around, and fenced for a good five minutes before Lydia finally got a touch on Rose, and Rose flipped up her foil in defeat, laughing like a loon, before doffing her mask and accepting a hug from Lydia, who was panting, sweating, and laughing joyously.

But when they separated, she looked at Rose very oddly for a moment, before saying, "Okay… Rose, are you human?"

"Uh, pretty sure I am," Rose said cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Rose, I'm in excellent shape, and I know it," Lydia said. "I'm in better shape than any woman I know— no bragging, I work for that.

"Yet I'm panting and sweating, and you're breathing just fine, and I can't see a drop of sweat."

"Uh, well… you… I'm a lot smaller?" Rose said, desperate for a cover of some sort. "Less me to move around? And… still riding leftover adrenaline from earlier?"

"Bull," Lydia said. "Honey, as a liar, you're an excellent swordsman.

"Rose… please, talk to me?"

"It's not my decision, Lydia," Rose said softly. She didn't take her eyes from Lydia— and she didn't have to.

"It is my decision," Buffy said. "Or… one I can make— if Whitey agrees."

"I agree," Whitey said. "You or me?"

"Me," Buffy said. "With some help."

She went to the huge wood pile by the back door (there to stock the smaller piles indoors by the various fireplaces), looked at those logs on the top, picked up one that was about two feet long, and probably six inches thick. She hefted it, nodded, and took it to Lydia, handed it to the older woman.

"Look it over," Buffy said. "Make sure it's solid, not cut anywhere, not rotten."

Lydia did as she was asked, though she was visibly puzzled, and said, "It's solid— good, heavy oak."

Buffy took it back, nodded— then tossed it towards Rose in a long, high arc, saying "Punch!" as she did so.

Rose punched the log as it dropped in front of her face, a flicker of motion too fast to follow— and it broke neatly, spraying little flakes of bark and a few splinters outwards, but not many.

"That's… Rose, are you sure you're human?" Lydia asked. "Because I don't think a human could do that! Propped on something, sure— but just falling in the air, unsupported? No way!"

Lydia sounded fascinated, not freaked— and that made it easier for Rose to go on, I'm pretty sure.

"I'm human, Lydia," Rose said. "But… I have gifts. Superhuman gifts."

"Okay, so… how?" Lydia asked. Then she looked at Rose, really looked at her, and said, "Rose, I promise— I won't tell anyone about this. I'm not afraid, not at all— I'm fascinated! Also… Rose, I saw how you use those gifts today. You're no danger to people. You're the very opposite of danger."

"Do you believe in magic, Lydia?" Buffy asked.

"I… no, I don't," Lydia said. She looked away from Rose, looked at Buffy, and smiled a little. "I'm about to change my stance on that one, aren't I?"

"Probably so," Buffy agreed. "Willow… can you show Lydia something magical?"

Willow pointed at the broken log, and the two pieces floated up in the air. She muttered a spell— and the two pieces rejoined seamlessly, even the little splinters and pieces of bark flying back into place. The log then floated to Lydia, who took it out of the air, looked it over carefully, and said in a soft, amazed voice, "Magic…."

"Unfortunately, that magic has a bad side, Lydia," Buffy said. "There's good magic… and there's evil magic. There are good magical creatures… and evil ones."

Buffy talked until supper time, explaining all about demons, monsters, Powers That Be, Slayers, Watchers… all of it.

We all ate together, sitting out in the warm October evening, the newbies, Nancy, all of us. Lydia was fascinated by everyone and everything, and when Vincent leaned back on a loveseat with Vivian curled in his arms and started to purr, she broke into the biggest, most delighted smile that I've ever seen.

"My god, you're purring!" Lydia said. "That— you're _purring!_ That's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard!"

"I feel sorry for those who cannot purr," Vincent said. "There is no better way to express contentment— or to enhance it."

"You must be a cat person," Rose said.

"Oh, I love cats," Lydia said. "I love dogs, too—" She scratched the head of Abe, who'd found a new person to pet him and stuck with her, and continued. "— but cats are my favorite animals. I have two."

"I have claws as well," Vincent said. "And catlike reflexes. But purring is my favorite feline manifestation."

"It should be," Vivian said, sounding warm and drifty. "It's certainly mine."

"Okay, while I've got you all out here," Whitey said, "I have an announcement to make, one that affects you student types— and that I think you'll like.

"Girls… Xander had a brilliant idea, and with the permission of Giles, we've worked it into a reality.

"Thanks to Brianne's near-incessant complaints about the lack of eligible guys in the household, and the recent discussion of Halloween plans, Xander hit upon the idea of approaching the administration of the Winston Academy and asking if we could arrange to have you girls who want to do so attend their Halloween dance. I spoke to Principal Jackson this morning, and because I volunteered to have the Giles Academy absorb all expenses of their party— refreshments, entertainment and such— and to assist in chaperoning, we have been invited to bring ourselves and our students to the academy as guests for their Halloween Dance on Saturday, November the First."

They cheered, most of them. Jenna didn't look interested, and neither did Linnea (or silent little Delia, who hadn't said a word since right after Kennedy's funeral), but who could blame any of them?

Once the cheering died down, Brianne stood, found her way to Xander, hugged him, and kissed him loudly on the cheek. "You are my personal hero, Xander Harris," she said hugging him again. "Thank you!

"Boys! There will be boys!"

We all laughed, and Whitey said, "Attendance is not mandatory— I figure some of you won't want to be in a crowd, and I don't blame you— but all of you who want to can come. Ages eleven and up are invited. Do please let Nancy know if you don't want to go."

Inevitably, we all started talking costumes. It was a good night.


	53. Chapter 53

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 53

_Rose:_

So I skipped teaching the next morning, skipped riding with Elaine and Sunrise to school, ate a stand-up breakfast of a couple of self-made bacon and egg sandwiches, and ran two blocks to the nearest city bus stop, my sword case— meant to hold a partly-collapsed fishing rod— on my shoulder. I caught the bus, and got to Bloomington High School at a little after six-thirty. I walked up to the building, found that the administration offices were still locked, but the hallways and classrooms were open.

I started wandering the halls, my sword case still on my back, listening carefully, and trying to focus that weird, nameless set of senses that came with the Slayer power out as far as they'd go, feeling for wrongness.

I covered most of the halls easily, and with no troubles or sense of anything wrong. It wasn't until I came to the hall near the gymnasium that I got a prickle of badness. At that time, the gym, the pool and the various shop classes— wood shop, metal shop, auto repair— were all at the back of the school, along with boys and girls locker rooms and the Driver's Education room, complete with its insanely expensive car simulator.

I checked the Driver's Ed room, found it empty, and moved to the gym doors. The feeling of badness got stronger, there, and I shivered as I slipped inside the dark gym. I tried to turn on the lights— and nothing happened.

"Damn," I whispered. I moved sideways in the pitch-black gym, deliberately didn't reach into my pocket for the little flashlight I'd also brought along— I didn't want to give away my position if there was anything in here. I didn't think there was— the badness was not strong enough for it to be in the room, I didn't think— but I didn't want to take stupid chances.

I almost screamed when I bumped into something hard and rocky, visions of stone golems dancing in my head. But I didn't scream, or even "meep"— I was too scared for that.

The rocky thing didn't move, didn't chase me as I retreated. After a moment, I gave in and pulled the flashlight out of my pocket, turned it on with my hand over the lens, then slowly uncovered it.

There stood a stone statue of Mr. Carney, one of the two night janitors. He held a mop in his hands, up and back behind his head, like he'd been about to swing it at something as a weapon. The bucket, full of water that looked clean still, was only a couple of feet past him.

I got out of the gym, went back out the way I'd come, and breathed very hard and deeply once I was out in the dimly lit hallway. I checked my cell phone, found that I barely had signal, and trotted down to the nearest exit, went outside, checked again, had full signal strength. I flipped the phone open and called home. Whitey answered on the first ring.

"It's Rose," I said. "Whitey, I've got another Snyder. I need Willow and Bree here, right the hell now. Bree should bring the biggest, longest weapon that she's comfortable with."

"Willow and Bree?" Whitey said, sounding surprised. "Why those two?"

"Willow to un-petrify a janitor, possibly two, though I haven't found Mr. Warden, yet," I said. "Bree because she should be immune to the monster's main attack.

"I'm pretty sure there's a medusa in here somewhere, Whitey."

"Oh, shit," he said. "All right— they're both up, I'll get them there now— and a second team for outside, to get them out if something goes wrong."

"So long as you understand that I won't be outside, we're good," I said. "I'm going in with Bree— I'm a decent blind-fighter, even if I'm not on her scale. A medusa probably won't expect that."

"All right, but if you get hurt, you get to call and explain it to your parents," Whitey grumbled.

"Deal," I said. "Whitey… hurry? There will be teachers arriving soon."

"Understood, on the way," he said. "Be careful, Rose."

He hung up, and I decided to wait outside for my backup.

Good thing, too— because there was more there than I'd counted on. Damn it.

Also very much _not_ damn it. But that I didn't know about, not right then.

_Interlude:_

This place it found itself in was… different. Funny-smelling, and funny made. Built like a castle, but not. There were tunnels all through it, some big enough for it to move through in secret.

Secret was good. There were bad things here. The snake hair, the horned ones… bad things. Hateful, hurtful, _mean_ things.

And more to come. It knew of the Djinn, and that one was mean beyond the telling. It would bring more mean things. Some stupid human had made the wish without thinking, and the Djinn would grant it in the meanest way it could.

But hopefully, it would not bring the Father. That much mean… even the bravest of humans could not handle that.

Then came the human. Just a girl, but moving like one of those humans who fight without weapons. Afraid-smelling, yes… but still going. It liked that. To be afraid and still go— those humans were supposed to be the good ones.

Still… it would be careful. It would watch. It was young, very young, not quite full grown, yet. It would be sure before it approached the human.

It would watch. It would wait. It would be sure.

It wouldn't take any silly risks.

_Rose:_

Of course nothing went quite how it should have.

I was outside waiting for Bree, Willow and whoever else when a car pulled in— and out got Mr. McLean, the woodshop and drafting teacher. I'd never had him, but I knew him by sight, and from his tours as cafeteria monitor. He was one of those teachers that every kid knows not to mess with— because if you were respectful to him, paid attention, treated him right, he'd go to bat for you if you needed help— he'd even interceded in some kids punishments for things, taking the time and making the effort to explain any extenuating circumstances that he knew about.

But if you crossed him, if you didn't treat him like a teacher, or acted the asshole to or around him, he'd send you to the office in a heartbeat— and if you screwed around in his shop, did something stupid and unsafe around all those power and table tools… he'd bounce you off the wall, _then_ send you to the office. He had no patience with idiocy that could get people hurt, and all the kids with any brains treated him with respect. He was in his early fifties, and he wasn't big, not at all— only five-six or so, a hundred and forty pounds— but he was quick and wiry, and he wasn't afraid of much of anything.

He got out of his car, saw me standing there in front of the hall doors, looking somewhere between scared and mutinous, and he started my way— logical enough, I was at the doors that led to the hall which led to the shop classrooms, and, if you went clear down and around, back up to the pool and the gym.

"Rose Killian, isn't it?" he said as he approached, his voice friendly enough, but curious. "Aren't you awfully early, Rose?"

"Uh, I guess so, Mr. McLean," I said, trying to think of an explanation that he'd buy— then, figuring he'd be really good at spotting a lie, I decided to tell at least some of the truth. "After yesterday, I was… well, I was afraid that something else might happen, so I came to check it out before classes."

His gaze sharpened, and he asked the one question that I really didn't want him to ask.

"Rose, do you have a reason to think something else like that might happen?" he asked.

"I… well, sort of," I said, stalling for time, and praying for a distraction. "It's just… well, I've got a feeling, Mr. McLean. A bad feeling. I think… I think maybe you shouldn't go in there."

"Rose, I can understand your being worried," Mr. McLean said. "After what you had to do yesterday… well, I wouldn't even be here, most likely, if I'd had to do it. Good for you, just for coming.

"But I really doubt that anything like that will happen again. I don't know what those things were, but—"

"Orcs," I said. "They were orcs, Mr. McLean, right out of Dungeons and Dragons. I know how that sounds, but…. well, here."

I had my backpack on, as well as my sword case, and I slipped both off, opened my pack, got out the Monster Manual I'd tucked in it last night.

"Did you see those… things before the cops took them out of here, Mr. McLean?" I asked.

"I did, yes," he said. "But surely— oh. Oh, my."

I'd shoved the book, open to the page describing orcs, complete with a very good illustration, under his nose. He looked at the picture of the apelike orc, in amazement, unable to deny that it was a picture of the same sort of things that I'd killed.

"That's… that's impossible!" Mr. McLean said. "Things like that… maybe it was a government experiment? Or a genetics lab thing? Gone very wrong?"

"Maybe it was," I allowed, even though I knew better. "But I don't think so. I think something brought those orcs here— and I think it's brought something else here, too, Mr. McLean. Something worse. I… I have people coming who can help me get rid of it, but I don't think you should go in there, please, Mr. McLean. Please."

"Rose, I'm sure that you just want to help," Mr. McLean said. "But surely there couldn't be anything else—"

"Hank, Rose is right," said a familiar voice behind us— and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Miss Heller (this was at school, so that's how I thought of her) had pulled in, and Mr. McLean and I had been so distracted that we hadn't noticed.

"You shouldn't go in there," Miss Heller went on. "If Rose says it's a bad idea, then it almost certainly is exactly that— a bad idea."

"Lydia, I can't believe—" Mr. McLean started.

"I was there," Miss Heller reminded him. "I saw what she fought— and how incredibly well she fought it, Hank. If she says not to go in there, then no force on Earth would get me to go in— even if I had my favorite sword.

"Rose knows what she's doing, Hank— so let's just… get out of her way."

"Lydia, surely you don't think th—"

Something in the hallway crashed and banged, and something else… roared. Or maybe bellowed. Either way, it was not a sound to inspire courage and a desire to explore.

"Oh, shit," Mr. McLean said. He looked at me, said, "I'll back off, Rose— if you and Lydia come with me."

"Okay, I'll come for the moment," I said, and sighed in relief. "But only if you'll help me convince anybody else who shows up before my backup gets here not to go in."

"Deal," Mr. McLean said. "God, this is insane!"

"Welcome to high school," I said, following him and Miss Heller away from the doors, out to the faculty parking lot.

We hadn't been there long before the Team Slayer SUV pulled in, and people got out, looking grim and serious— and holding weapons. Mr. McLean blinked, and stared— and I heard Miss Heller say, "Hank… it's okay. They're here to help."

"Hi, guys," I said weakly.

Buffy and Whitey nodded, Elaine blew me a kiss, Sunrise and Sh'rin waved, Brianne turned to my voice, and Willow gave me a serious-looking nod. Sunrise and Elaine took iPods from shirt pockets, plugged in earphones, clipped them to their belts, and I knew that they were planning on going all Capoeira on any monsters we might face. I almost felt sorry for the monsters.

Brianne homed in on my voice, started towards me, one hand out in front of her, the other down at her side— and holding the biggest, heaviest battle axe I'd ever seen. She held it by the middle of its four-foot long handle, carried it like it weighed nothing. I held my hand out where she'd touch it, and waited. When she touched my hand, she grasped it, and said, "Hi, Rose. Thanks for asking for me— makes me feel useful."

"Bree, you've never been anything else, not since our first fight," I said. I squeezed her hand. "You're pretty amazing, and perfectly suited for a job where meeting your enemy's gaze? Seriously bad idea."

"Thanks," she said. "I guess it's just blind girl insecurity."

"You've got nothing to be insecure about," I said. "Relax— I'll brief you on this thing in a second."

I turned my attention to the parking lot, where Whitey and Miss Heller were trying to reassure Mr. McLean that it really was okay to let some teenagers and one twenty-something girl who still sort of looked like a teenager (until you met Willow's eyes, she could be eighteen or so) go in there and handle whatever had made that noise we'd heard, and saw one of the last things I wanted to see.

Mr. Dunlap's British racing green 1958 Jaguar was just pulling into the lot.

"Oh, shit on a singularity," I sighed. Bree, hearing the engine, didn't ask what was wrong, but I told her the specifics. "The Assistant Principal just pulled in. This is going to get complicated."

"Lydia, Hank what's— Rose? Mr. Penobscot? Miss Summers?" Mr. Dunlap stopped and stared. Okay, five girls with weapons— four, I hadn't gotten out my sword yet— one in a flowing dress, and Buffy and Whitey with printouts of a map of the school, that had to be a 'huh?' moment. "What's going on, please?"

"Thomas… this is going to be impossible to explain," Miss Heller said. "But… there's something else in there. Like yesterday. And Rose and some of her friends are going to take care of it— before it hurts someone, this time."

"Have you called the police?" Mr. Dunlap asked.

"No, Thomas," Miss Heller said. "Thomas… the police can't handle this, I don't think."

"And Rose and a bunch of other girls her age can?" Mr. Dunlap said, shaking his head. "Rose— make no mistake, I'm impressed by what you did yesterday, and I'm very pleased… but I can't let you go into a situation like that deliberately."

"I have to, sir," I said. I stayed where I was, my hand in Bree's, and looked him in the eye. "This isn't my fault, Mr. Dunlap— but I've taken responsibility for stopping it."

"Rose, I appreciate your sense of responsibility— and I never thought I'd be saying those words, which should tell you how much you've changed, and how positively— but this… if there is something in there…." He trailed off, then shook his head. "I can't let a student of mine go into a dangerous place on purpose, Rose."

Buffy had moved around to the back of the SUV while Mr. Dunlap spoke, and now she came back holding the Scythe. She said my name, tossed it to me— and when I caught it, my every nerve lit up in sheer delight at the power I felt thrumming through it.

"Sweet," I muttered, and let my sword case slide down my arm, tossed it to Whitey, who put it in the SUV, then did the same with my backpack when I tossed it to him.

"Rose what on Earth is that… thing?" Mr. Dunlap asked.

"It's a weapon, Mr. Dunlap," I said. I caressed the blade with one hand, felt it vibrate, almost like a purring cat. "A weapon made for me, for girls like me— and it gives me enough of an edge that I'm a lot more relaxed about going in there after… what's inside."

"How do you eve—" Mr. Dunlap started.

KABOOM!

The doors at the end of the Shop hallway slammed open, one so hard that it dangled uselessly from one hinge— and out stepped a D & D _minotaur_.

Seven and a half feet tall, probably over six hundred pounds (what with all that muscle), built like Arnold Schwarzenegger's bigger, steroid-junkie brother, and topped with a shaggy, heavy, bull's head, with a horns that were at least four feet across, curved forward and deadly sharp.

It had something in one paw, something that it dragged behind it. Even as I stepped forward, gently tugging my hand free of Brianne's, it flung a broken, bloody mass our way, snorting what felt like a challenge as it did so— then turned its back on us, and went back into the hall.

The body of Mr. Warden, the other night janitor, hit the pavement maybe twenty feet from me, and rolled ten feet closer before it stopped.

"That's it!" I said. I was seeing red. "That's _it!_ No more!

"Bree, there's a minotaur, too— maybe more than one. So… change in plan.

"Wil, can you do anything like determining how many things are in there that don't belong?"

"Be easier to check for evil," Willow said. "Hang on a second."

In the meantime, Mr. Dunlap had his cell phone out, was trying to call the police. Miss Heller started for him, and Buffy stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Someone's dead, Lydia," Buffy said. "If we don't let him call the police, we're guilty of a crime— and it'll be even harder to explain things, later."

"All right," Miss Heller said— and I saw that she'd started crying. "All right, yes. Poor Mr. Warden. He's— he was— a nice man. He helped me get my car going a couple of times, when I first started here. Fixed it, I mean. And wouldn't take a penny past the parts cost."

"Rose, I've got four evil beasties in there," Willow said. "All down that hall the minotaur went down, in the last room on the right down there."

"Wood shop, yay," I said, sighing. "Not like they'll have enough weapons of their own or anything, they have to hang out where there are plenty more."

"Do you have a plan, Rose?" Buffy asked.

"I do— but it's changed," I admitted. "Buffy, can you get Willow to the gym? The lights weren't working when I was in there, but along the wall closest to the doors in from the hall is where you'll find Mr. Carney— the one the medusa got."

"I can do that," Buffy said. "What else?"

"You two get him put back to rights, then get back out here, wait for us— or for us to need help," I said. " 'Us' being everyone else but Whitey, who, I'm sad to say, has to stay out here and try to deal with cops and other teachers."

"I'm sad to hear you say it, too," Whitey said. He sighed, shook his head, and went on. "But it's the right call. Dammit."

"The rest of us go after the critters," I said. "Brianne gets the medusa, with me for backup— no argument, guys, I'm the next-best blind-fighter after her. The rest of you keep the minotaurs distracted until Bree and I finish the snake-bitch, then we all clean up, Wil does her mojo on the mess, and then I'm gonna ask to stay right here— if they keep the school open."

"We'll see about that after we know more," Buffy said. She looked sadly at Mr. Warden's body, then looked up at me. "But I really don't think it's going to be an issue, Rose. Not after this."

"And I really ought to hold off on the mojo-ing away the mess until after the police have the bodies," Willow said. "Otherwise, they start looking for who did… that." She nodded at Mr. Warden's corpse. "A lot better for them to be looking for a body-thief when the bodies disappear from under their noses. Still… I think I'd better talk with Sh'rin before this goes any further."

Willow went to Sh'rin, spoke rapidly, and the two of them knelt opposite each other, joined left hands, and started chanting. When they finished, there was a funny rippling in the air— and I felt a chill.

"There," Willow said. "You guys aren't invisible, or anything— but if you don't deliberately get in a person's face, they just… won't notice you. So… try not to get in anyone's face, 'kay?"

"With the exception of a few minotaurs and medusas, you've got it," I said. "Guys… medusas have a petrifying gaze. It's not as bad as Greek myths, you don't get petrified if you just see one— but do not, under any circumstances, look that thing— or those things, there's a cheerful thought, right? I should go on the USO tours. Never mind, I'm babbling. Do not look a medusa in the face!

"Medusas also dig bows, but Bree and I will try to take out a bow first, before she can get a shot off on any of you. Past that, shorts swords maybe, daggers more likely. The snakes that are their hair are poisonous— grappling is a seriously bad idea.

"Minotaurs… big, strong— and _heavy_. If you go down, get under something— a table would be good— or behind something _fast!_ Even Bree, Elaine and I will probably die if we get trampled. If they charge, don't try my take-out-the-knees trick— get the hell out of the way, now!

"They also have a fondness for axes— about the size of the one Brianne's got, maybe bigger, I don't know. So be careful— anybody getting hurt will have to deal with me— and then Buffy. Then, probably all the Watchers, with my mom and dad batting clean up— and that scares _me_.

"Understand?"

Everyone agreed, and we looked around— the first cop cars were just arriving, and Principal Garrett right behind them— and started off to enter the modern-day dungeon that was my high school.


	54. Chapter 54

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 54

_Elaine:_

Maybe I'm crazy, but I felt good going into Rose's school to help clean up the monsters that had infested it, good and confident. Medusas, sure, bad karma. And a minotaur could run over our dogma, maybe— but it still felt good to go in there with an eye towards making people safe, and avenging the poor janitor who'd died.

So I followed Rose and Bree up to the big double doors, one now hanging open on one badly bent hinge with a comparatively light heart. Oh, I was tense— but it was ready-tense, not worried-tense.

Rose stopped us all five feet or so from the doors, spoke briefly in Bree's ear, then got down on all fours and crept forward with a grace that shouldn't have been possible in such a position. Bree moved behind Rose, sliding one foot along the pavement, pressed against one of Rose's feet. When Rose stopped, Bree stopped too, and as Rose turned to sit on the ground, facing back at us, Bree knelt a couple of feet back from Rose, and grabbed Rose's ankles.

Rose counted softly, "One, two, three," and simply fell backwards, her head going just past the opening of the doorway, on three. After a little more than a second, she hissed sharply between her teeth— and Bree pulled Rose clear of the door by the ankles.

I'd never have thought of that! It gave Rose a quick look down the hallway from a level an enemy wouldn't be looking at (who looked for a person to look into a guarded area from ground level?), and by having Bree pull her back, got Rose clear without her having to sit up or creep back, both of which would be slower.

"Bless you Brian Daley wherever you are!" Rose said as she stood. At out puzzled looks— none of us understood what she was talking about— she grinned and said, "Author who wrote some Star Wars novels featuring Han Solo and Chewbacca— I swiped that little trick from one of his books— Han Solo at Star's End, in fact.

"Hall's empty. Let's do this. Anybody got something I can use as a blindfold? I do _not_ want to get surprised into opening my eyes."

Sh'rin had a bandanna in her hip pocket that she handed to Rose, who grinned, rolled it quickly, and fisted it. "I want one look in there before I put it on, thanks, Sh'rin."

We moved down the hall, me hefting the short sword I'd selected for this job (short weapons working better with the Capoeira that I'd learned), Sunrise matching me in both weapon and heft. Sh'rin drew the Guardian's blade, left the wooden sheath propped against a door one away from our target door, and Bree shifted her grip on her giant axe, gripping near the bottom of handle and shouldering the weapon. Rose carried the Scythe comfortably, and crept to the also-hanging-by-one-hinge door of the woodshop. She looked through a crack between the dangling door and the frame, then backed off and let out a soft sigh of relief.

Rose held her hands up against her head, palms out, and wiggled her fingers— then smacked herself lightly in the forehead on looking at Brianne, realizing that our key player couldn't see her pantomime.

"One medusa," Rose said, so softly that we barely heard her. "Three minotaurs— we caught a break on that.

"Snake-chick has a short bow and a dagger, the bull-boys each have an axe the size of Bree's, but shorter in the handle. This won't affect their reach much— they have long arms.

"Snake-chick is to the left of the room, straight along the wall in from the door. Bulls are to the far right, looking at the pegboard rack of tools. One of the bulls— pretty small, at least for a minotaur— has a big honking necklace on. Can't see the symbol on it, but watch him— he may be a cleric of some sort. Put him down first, if you can."

Rose took a deep breath, said, "I love you guys. Every one of you. Remember that, and stay well."

She tied Sh'rin's bandanna over her eyes as a blindfold after putting Bree's hand on her belt, then stepped over and tore the door off of its hinges, flung it down the hall.

"You bags of shit should have stayed the hell out of my school!" Rose snarled as she stepped in, moving left towards the medusa. "Now you get to do detention— in hell!"

I saw the medusa draw an arrow, nock it and fire, moving so fast I couldn't warn Rose— but Rose just snapped the Scythe up in front of her face, deflected the arrow neatly— and drew a hiss of surprise from the medusa.

Then Sunrise, Sh'rin and I were headed to the other side of the room and the minotaurs. I had drag, and I noticed a bulge under the back of Sunrise's shirt, something round held against her back by her shirt, supported by the shirt's elasticized hem. I grinned, knew that it was a Frisbee-delivery-system for a protective spell like she'd used on Chantelle's birthday. Good on her, thinking like that!

Then the minotaurs charged, but they weren't able to build up enough speed for it to be a super-serious danger because of all the table tools staggered around the room.

I turned on my iPod, started Paranaue for rhythm, saw Sunrise starting to ginga already, started the basic Capoeira movement myself.

Minotaurs aren't as slow as you might expect from their size— and they may be dumb, but they have good fight instincts— or instincts that would probably serve them against non-Slayers, or even people not trained by those who trained Slayers.

Sh'rin had only just started Capoeira lessons, so she stuck with the kung-rang-do (as Xander called the combined martial art) that she'd learned from Whitey and Rose. The Minotaurs were visibly confused by Sunrise and I, and even Sh'rin, once she started fighting. (Rose explained this later; in most versions of Dungeons and Dragons, the game that had obviously informed the world these things come from, martial artists tend to not use swords. Silly world, that!)

An axe came sweeping at me at chest height, and I let the music and the beat take me into the fight.

I bent under the passage of the axe, spun up on one hand, cracked first my right foot, then my left across the minotaur's chin, going for full Slayer strength with the kicks. It grunted in surprise and staggered backwards as I dropped out of my handstand and moved back into the ginga. As I came down, I saw Rose and Bree moving to bracket the medusa. She'd dropped her bow, and had a dagger in each hand, was trying to watch both her opponents.

Then my opponent was coming at me again, bellowing in anger, and for the moment, I had no more time to watch the medusa fight.

_Interlude:_

These humans were _mad!_

It watched from the vent high on the wall, saw the five humans enter the room, two going after snake-hair, three after the three horned ones. Two of those started moving in a funny dance-like motion as they approached, and it could dimly hear the music that they moved to, saw how they moved with the beat. The third held a sword that screamed of magic, so maybe they had a chance.

The littlest human, the one with the gleaming red hair that it had seen earlier, it had blindfolded itself against the snake-hair's terrible gaze, and held a weapon that, like the one sword, screamed with magic, though a different, more combative type. But being blindfolded didn't seem to bother it! It still deflected the snake-hair's arrow, and it moved confidently, as did the human girl with it— though that one seemed blind even without a blindfold.

Blind humans _fighting?_ They were either mad or courageous beyond anything it had ever seen.

The red-haired girl— from her, it felt rage, a controlled sort of rage that didn't frighten it, because that rage was directed against things that hurt, that killed for no reason.

It liked that kind of rage. That was _good_ rage. It decided that, despite her no-weapons way of walking, and her use of a weapon no paladin that it had ever seen had used, that this one was a paladin.

It found itself liking the red-haired girl-human still more than before— and thinking of her as "my human."

It started back where it had come from, to get out of these tunnels and go join the fight.

It had to help its human, after all.

_Elaine:_

I was holding my own against my minotaur but Sh'rin and Sunrise, not having Slayer power, were having more trouble. They hadn't been hurt, but they weren't hurting their opponents much, either. I started to worry a little bit— then I heard a hissing scream from behind me, and I spun into a kick that took me airborne, cracked my minotaur across the head just below one horn, sent it staggering sideways, roaring in pain.

I landed, saw Rose behind the medusa, the Scythe buried in its back— and saw Brianne swing her axe backhanded, take the medusa's head off cleanly, send it tumbling across the room.

"Dead!" Bree cried— and Rose swept off her blindfold, tucked it in a pocket even as she jerked the Scythe free of the corpse.

They turned towards us, started our way, Rose in front. She got to where the medusa's head rested, went to kick it aside— and screamed in pain, stabbed downwards with the Scythe, held it down with both hands —

— and jerked her foot free of the three snake-hair-heads that had fastened their fangs onto her ankle and lower calf.

Rose jerked the Scythe, sent the medusa head tumbling away to rest under the edge of a work table against the wall, out of the way. She took two steps our way— then fell to the ground, unconscious and with her skin looking gray.

"Sh'rin! Sunrise!" I yelled. "Rose is down— snakebite!"

"Sh'rin, go!" Sunrise shouted. "Bree, home on my voice!"

With that, Sunrise started singing along with Paranaue, giving Bree a voice to home in on, even as Sh'rin threw a back round kick at her minotaur, added a backwards stab with the Guardian's blade for good measure, and ran to Rose, already digging in the belt pouches she wore.

Bree came our way— and the damned minotaur that Sh'rin had been fighting started after Sh'rin. I couldn't get to it, I had my hands full with my own big bull, and Bree couldn't sort out where it was in the big, slightly echo-y room.

"Bree, backpedal!" Sunrise shouted. "It's going for Rose!"

Bree backed up, but we hadn't warned her fast enough. The thing was almost to the place where Sh'rin had bent over my wild Rose, hefting its axe, ready to attack first Sh'rin, then Rose —

— and there was a flutter of wings, like bat wings, barely heard over my fighting music, as something flew through the door from the hall, and arrowed straight at the minotaur, a streak of red-gold… something.

It buzzed the minotaur, which clutched at its face and bellowed after the thing passed, turned to face it, and got buzzed again— and grabbed the other side of its face, almost smacking itself in the face with its own axe as it did so. It started reeling around, like it was horribly dizzy— and the streak of red-gold went by it again, wheeling around its head, making it turn away from Bree as she swung her axe back over her head, then down into the minotaur's skull, killing it and sending it crashing to the ground. (It missed Sh'rin and Rose— but not by much.)

I spun back into my dangerous dance, stopped just avoiding my opponent, started thinking about putting him down, knowing that Rose was as safe as she could be, for the moment.

I got mad. My Rose was hurt, and another of these things had tried to make that "dead," not just "hurt." I wasn't just mad, I was _pissed!_

I moved back out of the way of a horizontal slash from the thing's ax in a back handspring, and, as my body hit vertical (well after the axe had passed through that space, but before the minotaur could start its backswing), I lifted my left hand, dropped my right shoulder— and swung my legs down and around in a powerful, sweeping arc, driving with both hips and waist as my legs scythed into the minotaur's. It felt like I'd tried to foot sweep a tree trunk— but the minotaur went over hard, landed on one side and lost its axe. I rolled forward, drawing my blade as I moved, and drove it deep into the minotaur's throat.

Even as I was doing that, Sunrise was dancing around her minotaur, drawing it after her— and leaving its back exposed to Brianne, who took its head off with a great, spinning two handed axe blow.

That made three. I leaped up and ran to where Sh'rin was working on Rose, Sunrise on my heels, pulling Brianne by the hand. I shut off my iPod as I ran, and when I got to Rose's side— I froze.

Curled up protectively on Rose's chest was a tiny little dragon, red-gold in color, two and a half feet or so in length, and most of that tail. It had it's nose pressed against Rose's cheek, and it nudged her gently while I stood and stared, and let out a funny little growling peep. As I knelt next to Sh'rin, it looked up at me— and I swear, I could see worry in its eyes.

"I thought Willow said there were only four beasties in here," I said as I knelt next to Sh'rin.

"No, she said there were only four evil critters in here," Sunrise said. "So I don't think it's evil— and I'm pretty sure it won't hurt her. It saved her life, and Sh'rin's."

The red-gold streak that had assaulted the minotaur that had tried to attack Rose and Sh'rin, right. (So I was slow— I was worried about Rose!) It had saved them— and I could tell from its demeanor and its distressed, peeping growls that it was worried about Rose. So it was all right in my book.

"Sh'rin, is Rose—" I started.

"She will be well," Sh'rin said, and gave me a quick smile. "She is responding to the poison cure, and needs only rest, and to give the cure time to work."

The little dragon had turned to listen— seriously, it had!— and now it peeped in a rising way that made it sound like it was asking a question.

"Yes, little wing, she will be well," Sh'rin said. "She will be sick and sleepy for a little while— but she will be fine. I promise."

"Okay, let's get her out of here," I said. "Um, little dragon? I need to pick Rose up. Okay? No biting, please?"

It looked up at me, opened its mouth a little in what I thought was a grin— and stood. It walked off of Rose, walked down to her waist on the floor— and wormed its way up under her shirt where it had come untucked, curled up into a neat little ball just below her breasts.

"This is one time," Bree said slowly, straightening from picking up the Scythe from where Rose had dropped it, "that I'm perfectly happy to be going to the Giles Academy, and not this high school. This place is just… too weird!

"Are you saying that a baby dragon saved Rose, and now it wants to go home with us?"

I scooped up Rose and her little passenger, and said, "Looks like it, Bree. And I don't mind— it's welcome so far as I'm concerned."

We left the room, went back down the hall and outside (Sh'rin stopped to grab her sword's sheath on the way). Cops had filled the faculty parking lot, cops and teachers and hangers-on, but we didn't call any attention to ourselves, didn't "get in any faces," as Wil had put it, and the only people who noticed us were Buffy, Willow, Whitey, Miss Heller, the other teacher, and that assistant principal guy.

Buffy went around the "officially there" people, ran to us, with all the others not far behind (made me feel good about the teacher I didn't know and the Assistant Principal), and Buffy skidded to a stop and asked, "How bad is it!"

"Rose will be fine," Sh'rin said. "It is snakebite, from snake-hair of the medusa-thing— I have given her the cure, and she responds well. Now… we need only wait. She will sleep, and she will feel ill for a short while— but she will be fine."

"What… what's under her shirt?" Willow asked.

"Um, a friend," I said, starting for the SUV, taking the same broad path the others had used to get here to avoid being noticed. "Seriously, it saved her life and Sh'rin's, went after a minotaur that was threatening them."

"What sort of a fr—holy crap!" Willow said, as the little dragon poked its head out of the V-neck of Rose's shirt and looked around curiously at all the new people.

"We killed the medusa and three minotaurs," Sunrise said quickly. "And you said there were four evil things in there, Wil— I think it's harmless. And it did protect Rose and Sh'rin."

"It's a pseudo dragon," said the Assistant Principal— Dunlap, that was his name. He sounded like he was either stoned… or wished he was. "I'm looking at a pseudo dragon that's under one of my student's shirt.

"What in the hell have I fallen into?"

"You recognize that critter?" Whitey said, sounding interested.

"Pseudo dragon," Mr. Dunlap said. "Highly prized as wizards' familiars. Good by nature, and probably won't get a lot bigger than it is now. Has a poison stinger on its tail, can knock you for a loop, even knock you out for several hours."

"That's what it hit the minotaur with," Sunrise said. "Probably didn't work as well as normal because the minotaur was so big— but it did dope it up, make it so Bree could finish it off before it hurt Rose or Sh'rin."

The pseudo dragon had been looking back and forth among the people as they talked, and listening with its head cocked.

"How the blue blazes did a pseudo dragon, a bunch of minotaurs and a medusa get into my school?" Mr. Dunlap asked as we reached the SUV. "I've not played D and D in years, though I run the gaming club here at school. So this can't be my fault— can it?"

I slid inside, moving slowly so as not to scare Rose's passenger, and listened as Whitey tried to explain.

"Mr. Dunlap, something is bringing these things into your school," Whitey said. "We don't know what, not yet— but we'll find out, and we'll stop it. As for the hundred or so other questions you have to have— you and Mr. McLean both— I'll answer them. Why don't you two come by our house— you can get the address from Rose's records, I'm sure, or Lydia can tell you where it is— after things are calmed down here."

"I'll do that," Mr. Dunlap said. "I'll want to check on Rose, anyway. Who'd have thought… one of my biggest problem children turns out to be our best protector."

"Uh, no offense, please," Mr. McLean said, "but I think I'm going to pass. I don't understand this, and I don't think I _can_. So I'm just going to go home and… and start forgetting that I even came in today."

"You do that, Hank," Mr. Dunlap said. "I'll cover for you."

"Thanks, Thomas." McLean looked around at us all, said softly, "I'm sorry I can't deal— you deserve more than just a thank you… but I'm too old to adapt to something this weird. So… thank you."

He turned and walked off for his car, and we let him go. Willow made a little gesture, and I saw a little flare from his car's radio antenna. She saw me noticing, said, softly, "I'll be able to find him later, now— and I'll help him forget this. He _needs_ to forget, I think."

Mr. Dunlap leaned in, then, took a good look at Rose and her passenger, then looked up at me and said, "You take care of her. I'm starting to admire her— so you take care of her."

He moved back, everyone else piled in, and we went home, where I carried Rose up to her room and put her to bed. Once her little friend climbed out of her shirt, I undressed Rose down to just panties, and tucked her in. The pseudo dragon watched me do this— then curled up on the pillow next to Rose's head and rested its head on her shoulder.

No one had suggested that Sunrise and I go to school today. Whitey had even told Brianne that she could have the day off, but she'd refused, saying only, "No, I dig classes— but I think I will skip PE today, I've had my exercise."

"I'll clear it with Vincent and Nancy," Whitey had told her. "Good job, young lady.

"In fact, you all did a damned good job."

I grinned at that memory, then sat down next to Rose's bed, grabbed a book of hers to read while I sat, and waited for her to wake up.


	55. Chapter 55

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 55

_Rose:_

I woke up with a headache from hell, a stomach that wanted to leave my body by climbing up my throat— and a baby dragon sleeping with its head on my shoulder.

"What the hell?" I croaked. The baby dragon— no, wait. Pseudo dragon? Pseudo dragon! The pseudo dragon lifted its head from my shoulder, and promptly nuzzled my cheek affectionately. "Where did you come from?"

"He saved your life," Elaine said from beside the bed, and moved to sit beside me on the bed. "He— what, dragon?"

The dragon had started shaking its head vigorously, and now it nudged my cheek, stretched its long neck across me and nudged Elaine's hand— then sat up and pointed at itself with one little claw-hand. I didn't get it— headache, remember?— but Elaine did.

"Oops— I'm sorry, I haven't met a pseudo dragon before, I didn't know how to tell," Elaine said. _"She_ saved your life, Rose. And Sh'rin's. She stopped a minotaur that was coming for you, stung it a bunch, slowed it down enough to let Brianne catch up to it and split its skull. If she hadn't stung the minotaur, it would have gotten to the two of you before Bree could get there."

I looked at the pseudo dragon, moved a hand out from under the covers to stroke her head lightly, moving slowly. She shoved her head under my hand like a cat, made a little bubbling-peeping noise of approval, and let me rub behind the ridges above her eyes.

"Wow," I said. "Thank you for saving me and my friend. That was very nice of you! But… why did you do that?"

The pseudo dragon got up off of my pillow, walked down to stand on my stomach— she didn't weigh much, maybe five pounds, so it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Once there, she sat upright, stretched her head down and nosed a place right over my heart. Then she straightened, held her claws in front of her and spread them as wide as she could— and grinned at me, I swear she did! Then she covered her eyes with her paws (having to shove her head down to reach, not having long arms), and made fighting motions with her tail. She then nudged my heart again, spread her claws again, and spread her wings out to maximum length (a wingspan of about three feet) from her claws.

Elaine laughed aloud, and said, "You're absolutely right— she has a big heart and she's _very_ brave!"

The pseudo dragon gave Elaine an approving look, nudged her hand, let herself be stroked.

"She likes me, cool!" Elaine said. The tiny dragon moved to lay on my chest and shoulder, close to Elaine, so we could both stroke her, and made that bubbling-peeping sound in a constant cycle while we did so.

"Pseudo dragons purr!" I said, giggling, forgetting my headache and my sour stomach in my delight. "That's so cool!

"Little lady, do you have a name? I know you're supposed to be telepathic, so maybe you can tell me w—oh!"

My head filled with images, light sparkling off of gems, gold, armor, weapons— all sorts of things. I thought for a second, tried, "Gleam?"

She shook her head, sent a similar set, but with multiple points of light on everything.

"Sparkle?" I said. She shook her head again, made this cute little exasperated sound, and sent an image of a huge expanse of pure white snow, reflecting hundreds of thousands of little spots of light from the stars and moon above.

"Glitter?" I said— and she dived forward, nuzzled me under the chin, dragon-purred, and lay down right there on my chest, head under my chin.

"Hello, Glitter," I said. "I'm Rose. And this is my love, Elaine."

Glitter bubbled, nuzzled under my chin again, then leaned over to nuzzle Elaine's hand.

"Glitter," Elaine said. "I like that. I like her!"

"So . . ." I said, while Glitter made herself comfortable, "did we win, despite my idiot moment?"

"We won, everyone's fine," Elaine said. "Bree racked up the kills today, she got three, with an assist on each, but still…! And you didn't do anything idiotic, Rose— who'd have thought that thing's head-snakes would still be able to bite after the head came off?"

"Snakes are notoriously hard to kill," I said. "But… we'll let Whitey and Buffy yell at me, I won't chew me out. Then when Mom and Dad get home… will you still love me after they've chewed my hide off for not being careful enough?"

"Yes, dear," Elaine said, and giggled. "God, I sound so very domestic."

"Little bit," I agreed. "But I don't mind.

"Glitter? Honey? I need to get up for a minute."

Glitter obligingly got up, walked off of my chest, and laid on my pillow. I sat up, and my headache returned— not so strong, though— and my stomach made unhappy noises. I went to the bathroom, swallowed a couple of aspirin from the bottle in my medicine cabinet, spent a few minutes taking care of other urgent things, then poked my head back out.

"Elaine?" I said. "Go grab a change of clothes, why don't you? I want a shower."

"Good idea," Elaine said, and went out and over to her room. I went over and sat on the bed, ran a hand over Glitter's smooth scales, and said, "You stay here and nap, Glitter. I need to be alone with Elaine for a little while, okay?"

She lifted her head, shoved it under my hand for a moment, then lay down and curled herself even tighter. I took that as a yes.

Elaine and I showered, and, once I felt better, made love in the shower. My stomach settled completely before we made love, and the last of my headache vanished with my first orgasm.

After we got out and dressed, I called, "Glitter?"

She opened her eyes and sat up, stretching like an elongated cat, then cocked her head at me in question.

"Are you ready to go meet the rest of my friends?" I asked.

Glitter promptly stretched her wings, flapped— and landed on my shoulder. She didn't grip with her claws, or at least not my skin. I stood still, and she draped herself around my neck like a living pseudo-dragon-stole, started dragon-purring quietly. Elaine giggled hard for a minute, sputtered, "Th-that's s-so _cute!"_ and took my hand as we started for the ground floor.

We smelled food about halfway down the stairs, the beginnings of lunch, and my stomach rumbled loud enough to cause Glitter to look up at me, amusement in her little green eyes.

"What can I say, I'm hungry," I said. "But don't worry, I never dine on dragon— or on friends."

No one was in the living room, so we went to the kitchen, where everyone looked around. Xander saw Glitter around my neck, grinned, and said, "My god, it's Kitty Pryde in a red wig!"

"No, Glitter isn't purple, she's red, or red-gold," I corrected. "Depends on the light, I think."

"Holy god on a stick," Chantelle said, staring with wide, happy eyes. "Rose, darlin', that's about the cutest thing I ever did see!"

"A pseudo dragon," Ballard said, sounding awed. "Oh, man, life around here just keeps getting cooler!"

(Viv and Vincent weren't there, and neither was Laurie or Sara— they were all in the classroom part of the dorm house, still. With Mom and Dad gone, that accounted for everyone who lived in the big house and Whitey and Chantelle's bungalow.)

"Rose, did you name her, or did she tell you her name?" Whitey asked. I saw my Monster Manual sitting on the table next to him, knew he'd done what "homework" he could on my new friend, found that she should be telepathic.

"She told me," I said. "I think she hasn't learned to think in words, not yet— or maybe I just don't speak the Common of her world."

"Come sit over here," Whitey said, indicating the vacant chair on his left. "I'd like to talk to Glitter, if we can manage something."

"She's smart," Elaine said. "She pantomimed that she saved Rose because Rose has a big heart and is brave already."

"Oh, good," Xander said, turning back to the stove, where he was doing nifty-smelling things to some pork chops. "A mime that I actually like— something new every day."

I sat, and Glitter promptly got down onto the table, walked over and sat on her hind legs in front of Whitey.

"Hello, Glitter," Whitey said. "I'm Whitey. I'm… I'm in charge here, at least until Rose's parents come home."

Glitter nodded, then leaned down and nudged Whitey's hand in a friendly way.

"It's nice to meet you, too," Whitey said. "I'd like to thank you for helping save Rose and Sh'rin— that's Sh'rin over there with Dawn— Dawn's the taller one with the lighter hair."

Glitter looked over her shoulder, nodded at Sunrise and Sh'rin.

"I'm also called Sunrise," Dawn said when Glitter looked at her. "Rose and Elaine call me that. So you don't wonder who they're talking to."

Glitter nodded again, and turned her attention back to Whitey— who promptly introduced everyone, just like Glitter was a human guest. Made me proud, he did, treating my new friend like just that— a new friend.

"Glitter," Whitey said, when introductions were done, "Willow over there, she's a wizard. You know about wizards, right?"

Glitter nodded, and turned to face Willow, did a little dragon-bow to her, then turned back to Whitey.

"Willow says that if you want to go home, she thinks she can send you," Whitey said. "if you want that, we will."

My heart jumped— then started beating normally again when Glitter shook her head no very emphatically, and moved to sit in front of me. I stroked her, loving the cool, smooth feel of her scales, and Whitey spoke again.

"Glitter, if you want to stay here, stay with Rose, you've certainly earned the right," Whitey said. "But this world is different from yours. We don't have pseudo dragons here. You'll never have a mate, Glitter. And you won't be able to fly free without worrying about someone trying to catch you and keep you. If you're seen by people who don't know and trust us, they may try to actively take you from here, and they may hurt you."

Glitter walked a couple of steps out onto the big wooden table, lay flat— and turned table-colored. After a moment, her skin even copied the striations in the wood under her.

"Wow," I breathed. "Glitter, that's neat!"

She bounced up, turned red-gold again, and came back to sit in front of me. I stroked her again.

"Are you sure?" Whitey said. "No mate, less freedom… be sure, Glitter, because if you stay, you'll only get closer to Rose— and it will hurt you both more if you want to go home later."

Glitter sat for a long moment, visibly thinking about it— then turned to face me, shoved her head against my forehead, bubble-purred— and climbed into my arms, turning to look at Whitey over her shoulder, and nodding firmly.

"Giles?" Whitey said, glancing at the counter behind him— and I saw the laptop sitting there, a webcam beside it. "Kelly?"

"She may stay," Giles said, his voice tinny through the computer speakers. "Rose… think of this as a late birthday present."

"I have no objections," Kelly said, laughing. "How could I object? That's the cutest thing I've ever seen!"

"Thanks, Dad, thanks Mom!" I called, and cuddled Glitter a little closer. "But… she's no pet. She's my friend."

"Yes, pets rarely nod," Giles agreed. "So your friend may stay as long as she likes."

"Thanks, both of you," I called. "Thanks tons!"

"You're welcome, Rose," Giles said. "Are you quite recovered from the attack earlier?"

"Right as rain, thanks to Glitter, Sh'rin and Brianne," I said. "I'm even past the headache and grumpy tummy."

"You be careful, Rose Erin," Mom said. "I guess you scared your team pretty badly— and I know you scared the outside team silly, when they saw Elaine carrying you out."

"Believe me, I'll be careful," I said. "From now on, medusa heads get wide berth, even after they're chopped off— good job on that, Bree, by the way."

"Have you any ideas on what might be causing this, Rose?" Giles asked. "You are, after all, our resident expert on such creatures."

"I have an idea," I said. "It's nuts— but it's all I've got.

"Giles, Willow… are there such things as genies? Wish-granting genies?"

Xander dropped the spoon he'd picked up to stir the creamed corn, and from that and the speed with which Buffy went to his side, I figured out that I'd just said something that upset him. I felt bad, but I knew that it wasn't my fault, at least. And Glitter… she promptly hopped out of my arms, flapped a time or two, and landed on a clear place on the counter next to him. Xander blinked, looked at her— and she shoved her head against his hand, burble-growling in a friendly way. He slipped one arm around Buffy, hugged her tightly – and started scratching Glitter's chin with his other hand, starting her dragon-purring.

"There are," Willow said, watching Xander as he hugged Buffy and scratched Glitter, an expression of approval on her face. "But they always twist the wish— usually on purpose. Djinn are notorious assholes."

"So… maybe somebody made a bad wish," I said. "Phrase a wish badly even when there's no djinn involved, and it can bite your ass. Whoever did it, they're probably terrified of saying anything."

"Have you any ideas?" Giles asked.

"No, not off the top of my head," I said. "I know it's not Brian— he taught me to be careful about wishes, so he'd know himself. I don't think it'd be any of the kids we played with before I got Slayer-ized, they learned the same lessons from his DMing that I did— be careful when wishing.

"I'll ask him— he still plays, some. Maybe he knows someone."

"Do, please," Giles said. "This needs to stop, and quickly. That there have been only two deaths is due only to your quick thinking, Rose, and the excellent responses of all of you."

"Thank you, sir," I said. "But I'm really glad you added that last bit— I couldn't have done today without everyone's help."

"All right," Giles said. "I think we will return to our honeymoon, now. Glitter, welcome to the family."

Glitter, still being scratched by Xander, looked around towards the computer, and made a puzzled-happy little growl.

"It's like a crystal ball, Glitter," I said. "My Mom and Dad can see and hear you through that thing you're looking at, and we can hear them."

Glitter promptly bowed towards the computer, bending her front legs, stretching her neck out and spreading her wings as she bent.

"God, she's not just cute, she's polite," Mom chuckled. "Glitter, thank you for helping save my daughter and her friends. And welcome home."

Glitter straightened up, peep-growled a cheerful note, and flapped over to land on my shoulder and re-drape herself.

"Yes, she is worth saving," Mom said— and Glitter started dragon-purring.

"Bye, Mom, bye, Dad," I called.

They said their goodbyes, and Willow turned the computer off.

"Okay… I'm hungry, and that smells awesome, Xander," I said. "My only question is… Glitter, what do pseudo dragons eat?"

She settled for a quarter-pound of raw hamburger.

When Vincent, Vivian, Laurie and Sara came over to the big house for lunch, they were all amazed and delighted by Glitter— and Abe, who came in with them, seemed to like her. He didn't growl, just sat and cocked his head and stared for a long moment, then made a little interrogative bark. Glitter hopped to the floor, walked over to sit on her hind legs in front of him, and stretched her head up to go nose-to-nose with him. They sat that way for a long moment, then Abe flopped down in front of her, panting cheerfully, and nudged her with his head. She didn't quite fall over backwards, and she burble-peeped a laughing sort of noise, and head-bumped his chin. Abe just grinned, and they got along fine after that.

The others all loved her on sight, and Vincent, on hearing her dragon-purr, laughed his big, booming (and still childlike) laugh, and said, "You purr, too! Perhaps we are related, Glitter."

Mr. Dunlap and Lydia showed up at about one-thirty, having finally been released by the cops— who were apparently freaking out. Second case of monsters in the school— and second case of the bodies of the monsters disappearing from the ambulances, which had been under guard, this time. (Willow grinned and buffed her nails, said she'd gone out and taken care of that while I was in the shower. That, and helping Mr. McLean forget— something he apparently wanted to do.)

"So… here we are," Mr. Dunlap said. "Lydia tells me that you can both explain and demonstrate. I'd like that, please. I mean… Glitter, there, she's evidence that this is real— but she can't explain how it happened, I don't think."

Glitter, hearing her name, looked around, flapped her way over to the chair where Mr. Dunlap sat, landed on the arm, and presented her head for scratching. Hesitantly, at first, then with evident pleasure, Mr. Dunlap obliged.

"You are a gorgeous little lady, aren't you?" he said. "And you helped save one of my students. Thank you."

Glitter burbled and stayed there while he scratched her.

Whitey and Buffy explained, with Elaine and I demonstrating Slayer strength and reflexes as examples.

Once we were through with the explanations, Mr. Dunlap looked at me, a penetrating look. After a long moment, he spoke.

"Very obviously, this Slayer power has been very good for Rose," he said. He smiled, then, a warmer smile than I'd ever seen from him. "And she's been very good for the school, and the people in it.

"Rose, what you did yesterday wiped the slate clean, so far as I'm concerned. And today put you in the good column. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Dunlap," I said. I grinned then, and said, "And you know, you're right— this power has been good for me. Since the day I got Slayer-ized, my life has gotten so much better… so I like that I can pay that back by stopping the occasional monster. Or even the frequent monster, though I really kinda prefer occasional to frequent."

"Amen," Mr. Dunlap said. "Ladies and gentlemen… is there anything I can do to help you with this mess?"

"I really don't think so," Whitey said. "Aside from keeping our secrets, at least."

White light went off behind my eyes, and I said, "No, wait a second. Maybe there is something…."

"Name it," Mr. Dunlap said. He hadn't stopped scratching Glitter, and apparently, he was dragon-people the way Lydia was cat-people— she loved his attentions, I could tell, and that made my liking for him jump almost as his being nice to me, and volunteering to help.

"Two things, actually," I said. "Mr. Dunlap, you sponsor the gaming club, right?"

"Yes, I do," he said. "I always suspected that my sponsoring it was why you and your friend Brian Keller didn't join."

"You were right," I admitted. "Though now? As of yesterday, Mr. Dunlap, the only reason I'm not joining is lack of time."

"Thank you, Rose," he said. "Now… how can I help?"

"I realize the club hasn't met this week," I said, hoping I was right about this, "but you know all your members, I'm sure."

"Yes, I do," he said.

"Are any of them acting… twitchy, sir?" I asked. "Or were they, if you saw them yesterday?"

"Well… yes," Mr. Dunlap said. "Kevin Matlock, he seemed very distressed yesterday— beyond the upset most of the students were feeling, I mean. He was pouring sweat when I saw him, and jumping at every little sound. And… a moment, please, let me check something."

Mr. Dunlap took his cell phone off of his belt, opened it, pushed some buttons, then held it to his ear. After a moment, the person he was calling must have answered, because he spoke.

"Hello, Steve," he said. "This is Thomas…. No, no, we haven't decided for certain yet if we're opening tomorrow— but, truth be told, I doubt it…. Yes, I'll let you know as soon as I do.

"Steve, odd question; how were your absences this morning…? Hmm, fewer than I would have thought. Tell me, did Kevin Matlock get on the bus…? Ah— no, I'm not surprised— he did look rather ill, yesterday. I think I'll call his house, make sure he's all right, talk to his parents. Thank you, Steve— and I'll call as soon as I know for certain what's up for tomorrow."

Mr. Dunlap hung up, and I said, "He didn't come to school today?"

"No, and absences weren't all that heavy, not on Steve's bus route, anyway," Mr. Dunlap said. "Further… Kevin's a sophomore, and this is the very first day of school he's missed. He's a true geek, he loves school."

"We need to talk to this boy, Thomas," Whitey said. "Can you give us his address?"

"I'll take you there," Mr. Dunlap said. "We're friendly, he and I— he may talk to me when he wouldn't to you."

"Excellent," Whitey said. "Buffy, Rose, Willow – you're with us."

"Me, too," Lydia said. "He's in a couple of my classes, and I like him."

"All right," Whitey said. "Thank you."

"One second," I said. "Can I bring Glitter, too? It might help to show him something good from all of this."

"Point," Whitey said. "Glitter, do you mind?"

She promptly shoved her head hard against Mr. Dunlap's hand in farewell, flapped over to me, and did her neck-drape thing, eliciting delighted chuckles from Mr. Dunlap and Lydia.

"That's a definite 'I don't mind,' I think," Whitey said. "Thomas— thank you."

"It's not a problem," Mr. Dunlap said. "I only wish I could do more."

"Actually, Mr. Dunlap, you can," I said. "I said two things, remember?"

"Ah, yes, you did," he answered. "What's the second thing, Rose?"

"Get us into the school tonight," I said. "I have a feeling… this thing brought in its first batch of baddies in the day, but this time, it brought them in at night— like setting a trap, you see? I'll bet it does it again tonight.

"So we go in there tonight, and we stop it— for good. Expulsion time, no suspension, no detention, no review."

Mr. Dunlap laughed at that, nodded, and said, "Done."

I guess Mom was right all along— behaving well would let me see that Mr. Dunlap really wasn't a bad guy.


	56. Chapter 56

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 56

_Elaine:_

Rose and the others were gone for about an hour. When they came back, Rose looked depressed, Glitter (hanging around Rose's neck) looked sad, Whitey worried, and Willow outright distraught. Buffy looked calm enough, and Mr. Dunlap only looked sad. Lydia looked… well, she'd been crying.

"What's the verdict?" I asked.

"Matlock did it," Rose said with a sigh. "He… god, the kid is really messed up over it. He… Willow had to wipe his memory of the event. He was suicidal."

"God!" I said. "That's— that's horrible!"

"Yeah, it is," Rose said. "He… he felt so awful about the girl and Mr. Warden… and he knew it was because he'd screwed up his wish. I mean— I don't blame him. He thought it was a dream, the thing came to him in the middle of the night, for hell's sake. So he wished to go to school in a D and D environment. He was thinking of a wizard's school in a D and D world, if he was thinking at all… but the djinn decided to bring D and D to the kid's school. _My_ school."

"And the djinn?" I asked.

"One wish only," Rose said with a sigh as she sat down next to me. "No way for the kid to call him again, no telling where he might go next— but Wil says he's probably having too much fun where he is, won't have moved on to another wisher yet."

"Damn," I said. I reached over, stroked Glitter as she flowed down onto Rose's lap and Rose moved into my arms. "So… next step?"

"We eat supper in a while," Rose said. "Then we nap. Then we go to the school, and we wait for that bastard to show up. We kill him— Wil's looking into how right now— we kill anything else he's brought through, and this stops.

"One way or another, this _stops!"_

Rose was shaking with anger, and I cuddled her, aided and abetted by Glitter, who is very good at comfort.

Rose calmed down, and a few minutes after she got herself under control, Nancy and all the girls from the dorms came in, having heard about Glitter from Bree, Viv, Vincent, Laurie and Sara, and wanting to meet a real pseudo dragon.

And we got another little miracle— bless that little dragon!

When Delia, mostly-silent, autistic-or-traumatized little Delia, saw Glitter, her eyes widened in amazement and delight, and she reached out slowly to stroke Glitter's head. Glitter burble-chuckled and pressed against Delia's hand.

"B-baby dragon?" Delia said in her small, soft voice.

"Pseudo dragon," Rose said, after a moment of stunned silence. "She's young, but not a baby. She won't get much bigger, though. Her name is Glitter."

"G-glitter," Delia said softly— and Glitter climbed into Delia's arms, making her little dragon-purr as Delia stroked her gently. Delia stared at Glitter for a moment, then said, still soft, "So pretty…."

"She likes you," Rose said. "You must have a good touch, she's purring louder than usual."

Delia said nothing, just held Glitter, rocked her a little, kept petting her. After a couple of minutes of this, Glitter shifted in Delia's arms, stretched her neck up, and pressed her head against Delia's forehead, her purring taking on a different, gentler vibration. She stayed that way for a long moment, her little green eyes staring into Delia's gray ones… and everyone in the room could feel something passing between them, something _powerful_.

Then whatever that had been was over— and Glitter chuckled, that funny little burbling growl that sounded so very happy, and settled back down in Delia's arms to be stroked. After a couple of more minutes, Glitter stretched her neck up, nuzzled Delia's cheek, then hopped out of her arms and flapped over to land on Rose's shoulder. Leaning against Rose's head, still watching Delia, Glitter made a little sound, plainly interrogative— and Delia nodded, and drew a deep breath before turning to Nancy.

"Nancy," Delia said in a much louder voice than usual. "Nancy… M-mom."

Nancy gasped and hugged Delia, who returned it before turning back to face the room. All of us were there except Giles and Kelly, and plus Lydia and Mr. Dunlap.

"Giles," Delia said. "Father. Kelly… also Mom. Not… not h-here. Honeymoon."

She turned to face Buffy, and said, "Buffy. Big sister. Prime. Badass!"

Buffy laughed and said, "Thank you, Delia!"

"Welcome," Delia said, and turned to Whitey. "Whitey. Teacher. Watcher."

She went through us all, naming Xander "big brother," Willow "other big sister," Vincent "teacher and cat-man," Sh'rin "time traveler," Ballard "crazy dancing fighter," and all the rest of us "friend"— except Diane Hodges, whom she named "doctor."

We all laughed, hugged Delia, and got hugged back hard— then Delia slipped out of Chelsea Yoder's hug, and went to stand in front of Diane.

"Diane. Doctor." Delia reached out slowly, took Diane's hand. "Helped Kelly. Helping Linnea. Helping Jenna."

"Yes, I'm certainly trying to help," Diane said calmly.

" 'Trying' my ass!" Jenna said. "I say you're helping."

"Diane… help me?" Delia asked, her voice so small it was barely audible. "Help… not scared." Her voice started rising with her next words, and kept rising until she was almost shouting. "Help… not see. Not see anymore! Not see, _please,_ not see, make me not see it!"

"I'll try, honey," Diane said, bending to hug her, holding on as long as Delia did, letting go when Delia let go. "I'll try. When you decide you're ready."

"Not… not now." Delia sniffled, wiped tears from her face. "Soon. Soon. Please, soon."

"All right, Delia," Diane said. "When you're ready, you come find me."

"Will," Delia said. She looked at Nancy, said, "Nap. Supper?"

"All right, Delia," Nancy said. "I'll wake you at supper time. Or do you want me to lie down with you?"

"With," Delia said firmly. She took Nancy's hand, let herself be led to the doorway, but stopped there and looked back at Glitter, still perched on Rose's shoulders, draped in that boneless snaky-cat way of hers. Glitter lifted her head and peep-growled, plainly a goodbye, and Delia smiled, said, "Thank y-you, Glitter."

Burbling happily, Glitter nodded, and put her head down after Delia looked away.

Once we heard the back door close, Whitey got up, walked over to Rose, scratched Glitter behind the eyes ridges when she lifted her head. "Thank you, Glitter, you little miracle worker!" he said. "I don't know how you did that— but thank you!"

Glitter burbled cheerfully, and pressed more firmly against Whitey's scratching fingers.

"Young lady, that was more in five minutes than we've been able to do for that poor girl in more than three months," Whitey said. "For that, you deserve a treat. Come supper time, how would you feel about having some calf's liver?"

Glitter's high-pitched, burbling "Ooooo!" was undeniably an assertion that she'd like that.

"Little dragon, you're a prize," Diane Hodges said. "If I had a friend like you, I could be the best counselor ever— but I'll take you opening the way for Delia with a grin— and a thank you!"

Glitter burbled and preened, and seemed quite happy to let people make a fuss over her.

We had supper at six, and Glitter ate her calf liver daintily, but with obvious relish. And when she was full, and it wasn't quite gone, she picked up the last big bite— big for a human, huge for a pseudo dragon— and dropped it in Abe's bowl, earning her a happy head-nudge from Abe, and an "Awwww!" from most of us humans.

After supper, Buffy told everyone who was going to the school— me, Rose, Sara, Xander, Dawn, Sh'rin, Ballard and Whitey, with Willow for mojo, and Buffy herself— to nap, and that Viv and Vincent would wake us when it was time to go.

Rose, thanks to her nap earlier in the day, couldn't sleep. After she cuddled me for a while, and thought I was asleep, she carefully got out of bed, went to the shelf of books she'd bought but hadn't read yet, and picked one out. She went to a chair in the far corner of the room, turned on a small light, and sat down.

Glitter, who'd stayed on Rose's pillow, flapped her way over to Rose, settled on her chair arm, then snaked into Rose's lap. She sat, looked at the book, looked at Rose. Rose read for a moment— then clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. Glitter promptly nosed the open book, then lifted her head and nosed Rose's lips gently.

"You want me to read to you?" Rose asked, surprised.

Glitter nodded.

"Well, okay," Rose said. "I'm just starting this one, so it's a good time."

They shifted, Rose settled in more comfortably, and Glitter lay on Rose's lap with her head up and her eyes alert.

" 'Guards! Guards!' " Rose read softly, "by Terry Pratchett.

" 'Dedication: They may be called the Palace Guard, the City Guard, or the Patrol. Whatever their name, their purpose in any work of heroic fantasy is identical: it is, round about Chapter Three (or ten minutes into the film) to rush into the room, attack the hero one at a time, and be slaughtered. No one ever asks them if they wanted to.

" 'This book is dedicated to those fine men.' "

Rose paused to giggle, and Glitter burbled in amusement as well.

I drifted to sleep to the sound of Rose reading quietly to the pseudo dragon in her lap.

I woke to find Rose lying beside me, awake, Glitter curled up on the pillow above our heads, and the door to Rose's room just shutting.

"Time to get up?" I asked.

"Yeah," Rose said, "it is. We leave in half an hour. I want a snack, first, I think."

"I could eat," I agreed. "Probably should, even— monster killing, hungry work."

"Yeah, never kill a djinn on an empty stomach," Rose said, trying to sound light— but mention of the djinn brought too much anger into her voice for that to work real well.

We went downstairs, grabbed a couple of sandwiches off of the platter of them on the counter in the kitchen, then went to the library for pre-mission briefing. Buffy started it as soon as everyone had settled in— and shocked my Rose.

"We've found out how to kill a djinn," Buffy said. "Fairly easy— you have to behead it. Problem there is that they're tough, they're fast, and they have some natural magic that makes them offensive terrors. They're all demons of some sort, which can be bad. As there's been no sign of heat or flame damage anywhere, we're going with the assumption that this one's not obsessed with fire, which may be a good thing. However, we still need to be careful— no telling what sorts of magics it can do.

"Now… the one thing we know it does well and consistently is gate in critters out of a Dungeons-and-Dragons-based dimension. That being the case— I'm passing command to our resident Dungeons and Dragons expert.

"Rose… tactically, you're my superior in this. It's your ball."

Buffy went and sat down next to Xander while Rose gaped at her.

"But— but you're in charge!" Rose protested.

"Yes, I am— and I'm using my in charge to put you in charge," Buffy said. "Rose, this is your gig, not mine. I've never played the game— or even seen the movie.

"For this one, I'm a soldier, nothing more. Give me orders."

Rose stood slowly, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She stood, picked up Glitter, draped the pseudo dragon around her neck, and went to the head of the table.

"My gig, right?" Rose said, looking at Buffy with a total lack of expression.

"Your gig," Buffy confirmed.

Rose looked around for a moment, then sighed. She at us and asked, "Who here's played D and D?"

"Not in a long time, but, yeah," Ballard said, and Rose nodded her acknowledgment.

"I have," Sara said. "I played for about a year before… before all this. Little longer, maybe."

"What's worse to face, a troll or an ogre?" Rose asked.

"Troll," Sara said without thinking. "Big, nasty— and regenerates."

"Banes of a mummy?" Rose asked.

"Only one— fire," Sara said.

"Ghoul or ghast— which is worse?"

"Ghast," Sara said. "Tougher, and the stench thing."

"Gnoll or hobgoblin?"

"Gnoll," Sara said. "Smarter, stronger, tougher."

"Sara, you're my second," Rose said. "If I go down, you're the boss. Get them out. Complete the mission if you can— but get them out."

"But— but!" Sara said, gaping at Rose. "But— Buffy!"

"You heard her," Buffy said. "She's in charge, Sara. And she's right.

"Being the 'Prime Slayer' doesn't make me best to lead every mission."

"I… okay," Sara said. "Okay, Rose."

Rose nodded, smiled at Sara, and turned to Buffy.

"Buffy, if something happens to Sara and I both, it's you— but you listen to anything Ballard tells you," Rose said. "He's played, he'll be able to help."

"Yes, Rose," Buffy agreed.

"Okay," Rose said. "It's my school, so I don't need to worry about maps. I see the rest of you have some, so… here's how we'll do this…."

Rose talked for fifteen minutes, describing her ideas— and they were solid ideas, I could see from the expressions on Whitey and Buffy's faces. I glowed— my Rose was making me so damned proud!

"Okay, that's everything I can think of," Rose said. "So… weapons, folks. I'd bring spares, if I were you. A well armed party is a successful party.

"Buffy… I want the Scythe."

"Already figured," Buffy said. "And your sword for back up, right?"

"Sword and a good blunt instrument," Rose said. "Some D and D undead pretty much don't mind sharp edges. Everyone should grab one of each.

"Sara… this genie seems to be bringing monsters that aren't always common— but are _popular_. They get used a lot in games, and never mind how common the Monster Manual says they are. Keep that in mind— it's an edge for us."

"Got it," Sara said. "Buffy, we've got maces, right?"

"In the basement," Buffy said. "Weapons locker is now open, people."

We armed up. I took a staff capped with metal ends, and the short sword I'd taken that morning. Rose took a mace, her sword, and the Scythe. Buffy went with a longsword and a mace, Sara took a bastard sword and a mace. Sunrise went with short sword and short staff. Sh'rin went with her sword and a heavy cudgel that looked like she'd made it herself (turns out she had). Xander opted for a longsword and a pair of police nightsticks. Ballard went with staff and butterfly swords. Whitey… that man! Two longswords, one Chinese-style, one European-style, a mace, a pair of nunchaku, and two pair of brass knuckles.

"Feeling a bit violent, are we?" Xander asked.

"A prepared Watcher is a wise watcher," Whitey said calmly. "I'm feeling very wise."

"Or possibly very much like a wiseass," Xander said. "Which is my job. Do I go trying to teach martial arts? No. But here you are, stepping on my contribution to the group!"

People laughed, and we loaded into the SUV to go to the school and do the job that needed doing.

We arrived about ten minutes before midnight, came in on the back side of the school, in the student lot. There was a police car and an officer over on the other side, in the faculty lot, but Willow had magically made sure he wouldn't notice us.

Mr. Dunlap was already waiting— and Lydia Heller, dressed in utilitarian cargo pants and a sweatshirt, stood with him. I actually laughed a little, and looked at my Rose— who had on cargo pants, bloused into a pair of steel-toed Doc Marten combat-style boots, and a sweatshirt.

"Oh, she's not thinking what I think she's thinking!" Rose said as we got out of the SUV. (Glitter, who'd included herself by virtue of getting in the SUV, draped herself across Rose's shoulders as she got out of the vehicle.)

I glanced over that way, saw Lydia lifting a pair of sabers out of her car's trunk, each with a scabbard and belt. As we approached, Mr. Dunlap stood watching with fascination as Lydia arranged the sabers on her back, so that the hilts stuck up over her shoulders.

"No way," Rose said as we approached. "No way, Lydia. You're a great fencer, and you can use them in the dueling fashion, sure— and you aren't going in there with us."

"I am," Lydia said, turning to face Rose, her face set and determined. "You think you're the only one who's pissed because this thing's playing around in our school? You think you're the only one who's shocked and horrified that it's killed a student and an employee? You think you're the only one who wants this thing dead for how badly hurt Kevin Matlock was?

"If you think any of those things, you're wrong, Rose— and the same for any thoughts you may have about leaving me out of this!"

Rose looked… well a little taken aback at the sheer ferocity of Lydia's words. She looked at her teacher for a minute, then said, "And you had the nerve to actually open that little talk we had about me crushing on you with, 'Rose, I don't know why you feel so strongly about me, but….' "

Lydia blushed, and shot Rose a crooked smile.

"Fine, you can come with us," Rose said, "on three conditions. Fail to meet any of them, and I'll have Willow whip up a spell that will leave you standing right here."

"What are the conditions?" Lydia asked, looking a little worried— she didn't know that Willow would do something like that only if Buffy told her to.

"First, you do as you're told," Rose said. "Buffy put me in charge tonight, Lydia— so you do what _I_ tell you.

"Second, you back off without hesitation or question if any of us tell you to— any of us! That very much includes Sara, who is a fellow D and D player, so has been made my second. If she says back off, you do it.

"Third… no more hedging— you start teaching me two-swords at the earliest opportunity!

"Do we have a deal?"

Lydia stared at Rose for a second— then laughed, and pulled her into a hug. (Willow looked jealous. She very definitely had the hots for Lydia.)

"All right," Lydia said. She shook her head in amazement. "All right, Rose— your way.

"We can start two-swords this weekend, if you want. I guess you really do have a need to know it."

"Good enough," Rose said, grinning. "You're in. You stick close to Sara— and remember, if she says 'back off,' she's probably got a reason. Mystical critter of some sort, something you can't just stab to death, or too fast or tough for a normal human to try and deal with.

"All right, folks— let's get this done."

Mr. Dunlap tossed Rose his keys, she caught them— and we were off.

(Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett is copyright 1989 by the author. No money is made through use of the dedication from that book— go buy it, it's wonderful!)


	57. Chapter 57

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 57

_Rose:_

Okay, Lydia was coming along. Having seen her play around with two swords, I can only say that I felt a lot more relaxed about that than I let on. She was _good_— but I didn't want her getting cocky and getting hurt because of it.

"Willow, can we get a badness reading, please?" I asked.

Willow held up her hands, muttered a spell, then whistled. "Um, fifteen baddies. No, wait— nineteen. Oh, shit, twenty-four. Thirty-one— Rose, the djinn's in there, and he's pretty much declared war, I think!"

"Can you lock on him?" I asked, bouncing in my eagerness.

"One sec, gotta filter… okay, you're not from this dimension at all, and your little friends, same thing… you either, and gag, you smell disgusting through a _spell!"_ Willow made little motions with her fingers, and I was reminded of this little old Chinese man I'd seen when I was seven or so and I'd gone to New York with my parents. He'd been sitting in his used book store, using an abacus to do his books. She continued, muttering, "Jeeze, you must be trying to bring the whole darned dungeon with you, what a butthead! Where are you… no, not there. Ick, what _is_ that? Never mind… ah!

"Got him, Rose— a classroom, I think, right near that four-way junction of the main halls. Um, it was marked on the maps as 'unused.' Don't know why."

"Water damage," I said. "Roof leak brought down the lowered ceiling, some of the lights with it.

"Okay, people— let's move. I'm on point, Xander with me. Then Elaine and Whitey. Sunrise, Sh'rin and Willow. Sara and Lydia. Buffy, you and Ballard have rear guard.

"Buffy… Scythe me."

Buffy went to the SUV, got the Scythe from the back, and tossed it to me. I caught it easily, hefted it, and caressed the blade. Glitter leaned closer to look at it, made a rising, whistling noise of appreciation.

"Yeah, it's a badass weapon," I said. "I love it.

"Glitter… can you scout ahead for us? Please, honey?"

Glitter nodded, but stayed where she was— until I went to a hallway and used Mr. Dunlap's keys to open the door in, at which point she launched herself off of my shoulder, and fluttered down the hall, casting about, her head swiveling first one way, then the other as she flew. She hesitated a little as she passed one of the math classrooms, and looked that way— then flapped on to the junction. She hovered, wings beating furiously, turned in all directions, then went and landed on top of a bank of lockers.

Visions of what she'd seen filled my head. That room she'd hesitated outside of, it held a dozen Drow, dark elves, obsidian-skinned, white haired and evil, heavily armed and guarding this most obvious path in. Halfway down each hallway was another group of nasties— the Drow were in the west hall, here. In the very short north hall, a dozen bugbears, big, goblinoid critters, strong, tough and heavily armed. East hall, a pack of six hell hounds, inner fires banked, glowing red eyes closed to hide themselves. South hall… four trolls. We had to go that way— south— to get to the djinn, too.

"It's gonna be a long night," I muttered. Then I told the others what I'd seen, finished with, "Willow… how big a flash of light can you do, and how fast?"

"Two syllables and a gesture, I could blind you if you had dark sunglasses on," Willow said. "What's up?"

"Drow in the room two doors down on our left," I said. "Dark elves— some magic, good with swords, poison their arrows— and inherently evil.

"But they live underground, and they have issues with bright light…."

I explained a little more, settled on tactics— and we started a dungeon crawl through my high school.

We walked down the hall in the order I'd determined, and with Wil on the left of the middle group. As she passed the door of the classroom where the were, she gestured to her left, said, _"Lumen!"_— and a HUGE flash of light went off in the room, even as she stepped forward and out of the way.

I dived past the doorway, curled into a ball and rolling, even as Elaine cartwheeled in. Xander and Whitey came right behind us, even as I went for one of the two females in the room while Elaine went for the other. (Female Drow are in charge— and very often spell casters, usually clerics of Lolth, the spider goddess they worship.)

I beheaded mine as I came up, thankful that I'd done so— she was chanting a spell when I drove the Scythe through her neck. The second one screamed in pain as Elaine, fighting Capoeira-style, spun through the air and broke that one's jaw with a kick. The others were staggering around, blind and in pain, easy pickings for Team Slayer. We made meat— and heard the sounds of fighting in the hall. I ran out— and saw that the bugbears had gotten impatient. Okay, no problem— Sara and Lydia, Buffy and Ballard, they had it under control, while Sunrise and Sh'rin stayed close to Willow, protecting her.

I watched for just a second as Lydia showed that she wasn't just a fencer— she was a swordswoman, and a damned good one!

A bugbear swung a broadsword at her neck, and as strong as those things are, I'm pretty sure that, had it hit, it would have decapitated her in a single blow. She just didn't let it hit….

Lydia went sideways as she blocked the broadsword with her crossed sabers, absorbing some of the blow by moving with it, then shoved outward with her left-hand saber, drew back a half a step as she did that, and shoved her right-hand saber into the bugbear's throat, twisting it as she pulled it out, leaving it to fall to the floor and die.

Then she leaped at the next one, lunged long and low, shoved her saber into its crotch, about a foot of the blade sinking in to the critter's nards before she drew back, slashed backwards to open a deep gash in the back of the leg of the one that was attacking Sara, giving my second-in-command the opening she needed to lop the bugbear's head off with the bastard sword she carried.

"My goddess, that's sexy!" Willow murmured— and I grinned at her.

"See why I crushed on her like a ton of bricks my freshman year?" I asked.

"Very see." Willow shook herself, muttered something— and the three bugbears who were trying to retreat bounced off a wall of force, and back where my friends could reach them.

Ballard leaped in among the bugbears, right in the middle of them, dancing, spinning, flipping around. The bugbears stared at him for a second— and died as Buffy, Sara and Whitey each killed one from behind.

"Damn I love that man," Sunrise said softly.

"Me, too," Sh'rin said.

"From dungeon crawl to love fest," I said, grinning. The three of them mock-glared at me, and I went to make sure all the bugbears were dead, having to finish off only the utterly helpless one the Lydia had given an impromptu castration.

Then I thought a moment. That left the two truly nasty threats still ahead of us, and I didn't want _them_ doing the whole "wait until they attack one group, then attack them" thing— not good, very bad.

I got an idea, and I grinned.

"Willow," I said, "there are a half a dozen hellhounds down the east hall, maybe thirty feet down. They're fire-based creatures— which reminds me, normals, watch out, these things breathe fire, and it's serious fire— they hit you, you catch fire, no question.

"Anyway… Wil, they hate the cold. Can be damaged by it, even.

"Can you make it snow down there? Start it behind them, drive them to us, so we don't have to worry about going after the trolls to the south and having the hellhounds attack us from behind, or vice-versa?"

Willow grinned, faced that way, and started a spell. She decided to improve on my request, and I didn't mind— she put two down before they ever got to us. She hit them with blizzard-force snow, coupled with hail the size of baseballs. The hail knocked two down and out, killed one of them— and the snow drove the rest right to us. Buffy, Sara, Elaine and I made short work of them, and nobody got burned.

After the hellhounds had been killed, Glitter hopped off of the locker she'd been sitting on, flapped her way to me and landed on my shoulder. She didn't drape herself, not this time, just sat on my shoulder, but that was cool, too. She balanced herself nicely, and shifted with my movement. With her only weighing five or six pounds, I barely noticed her sitting there.

She growled a little worried sound, and I said, "Relax, sweetie— I have a plan.

"Elaine, Ballard, Sunrise… how do you feel about joining me in being a distraction for a bunch of not-too-bright-but-pretty-dangerous monsters?"

"I'm comfortable with that," Ballard said, sounding relaxed. "Ladies?"

"Well, since she asks so nicely," Sunrise said.

"And since she goes with us," Elaine agreed.

"Actually, I go first," I said. I tossed the Scythe to Sara, who caught it with a wide-eyed look and a huge grin, and said, "Now, don't get attached— I'll want that back after we're past these things. I have a djinn to kill!

"Okay, here's the plan…."

Buffy looked at me like I was crazy after I'd explained— then snorted laughter, made a hands-spread, "it's your show" kind of gesture, and nodded.

"On three," I said, drawing my sword and tossing Glitter up into the air. "One, two, three!"

I took off running, chasing Glitter as she zoomed down the hall and turned south, towards the trolls, which were standing around on the edges of the hallway, two on each side. I chased her past the eight-and-a-half-to-nine foot tall monsters, noting their green-gray, rubbery hides, their long arms and legs, and that stupid, dangly-carrot nose that is a racial trait.

Just a few feet behind me came Ballard, Sunrise and Elaine, moving in cartwheels, aerials, handsprings— nothing the trolls would be used to. Maybe twenty feet past them, I braked to a halt as Glitter landed on another bank of lockers, and once the Acrobat Trio caught up with us, we four turned to face the trolls.

"Come on, you ugly sons of bitches," I said. "Come and get some beat-down!"

They started towards us, shambling more quickly than you'd think to look at them, but I'd warned everyone, and they'd listened. Just before the front two got to where Elaine and I made our own little front line, Sara, Buffy and the others slammed into them from behind.

Sara… god, that girl's amazing! She took out one right away, leaping a ridiculous distance into the air and bringing the Scythe down on the troll's head as she came down, yelling like a Viking warrior.

She split the thing from head to crotch in a single blow, and I heard Xander's manic cry of "Way to go, kiddo! Right out of the park!" as the thing fell to the ground in two separate directions.

I went to Cuisinart Mode, chopped off first the fingers, then the hands of the one that reached for me, saw it look down at the parts— and shrug before starting to try and batter me with its forearms.

The nastiest thing about trolls is that they regenerate, and pretty fast. Some damage they can't counter— acid, fire, and, to all appearances, one-shot kills like what Sara had done. Anything else? Well, the one whose arms I'd chopped up would be fine in ten or fifteen minutes.

Still, we got them on the ground, all four of them, chopped to lots of little pieces (Xander and Whitey made like a pair of lumberjacks, felling theirs in a series of alternating strikes that they swore they never practiced).

Once all the trolls were down, Willow made with the mojo, sending the parts up in flames that burned so quickly that they barely singed the tough indoor-outdoor carpet of the hallway.

"All right," I said, once that was done. "Wil… new evil reading? To make sure he hasn't moved? Or added much?"

Willow nodded, and cast her spell. Soon she was again playing with that imaginary abacus, muttering quietly to herself while she enumerated and located. After a minute or so, she said, "He went on for a few after I stopped last time, but he seems to have stopped now. And he hasn't moved.

"But… there are twenty-one evil creatures in the school, plus him."

"Okay, we can deal," I said, putting away my sword as Sara passed me back the Scythe. "But… him first. I don't want him upping his forces.

"For this… Slayers only. Well, okay, and Willow to counter what of his magic she can. And… okay. Buffy, you're the most experienced fighter here. So it's you and me on the Djinn. Sara, Elaine— you protect Willow. The rest of you, guard against intrusion. This may be tough, I don't want to be interrupted.

"Buffy… I want this demon. I need to kill him. But if you see the shot, and I can't take it… you _do it!"_

"Orders received," Buffy said, trying to imitate Vincent. "Objective understood."

"And don't give up your day job," I said. "As an impressionist, you're an excellent Slayer.

"Glitter?" I reached up to my shoulder to stroke her. "I think you should stay out of this fight, honey. Will you help protect our backs?"

Glitter leaned around and nuzzled my lips briefly, then flapped over to land on Elaine's shoulder, perching there on her hind legs.

"Okay, then," I said, taking a deep breath. "This one's for the money. Everybody be careful. Injuries will be met with punishment detail."

Whitey snorted, said, " 'The beatings will continue until morale improves,' huh?"

"Damn skippy," I said. "Let's go. Buffy, you're a better off-handed fighter, you go left. I have right— and I'm going straight to heavy offensive. No build up, straight to 'kill it NOW,' if you follow me."

"I follow," Buffy said. "And you know, I could get used to that— following. Not so tense as leading."

"Yeah, right," I said. "Lady, the minute this is over, you get back the leader hat."

"Well… it's not over yet," she said. "Ready when you are."

We went around the corner, saw the door of the room where the genie waited standing open, light pouring from inside. I nodded at Buffy, looked around at the rest of my team, nodded at them— and charged into the room with the Scythe cocked in one hand, heading straight for the muscular, yellow-skinned, black-Fu-Manchu-mustached-and-bearded critter who stood calmly in the center of the empty room, waiting for me.

It looked about seven feet tall, and had a build that would have done the muscle-bound idiot of your choice proud. It had skin of a deep yellow, verging on orange, and no hair other than the already-mentioned facial hair. It wore only a belt of heavy leather, with a breechclout of the same material covering ass and crotch, hanging to knee level or so.

I leaped, took a page from Sara's book, going for the full-on-Viking-leap-and-chop—

— and it slapped me out of the air with scary speed, sent me crashing into the left-hand wall, barely missing slamming into Buffy as she charged at it, longsword reaching for him.

I bounced to my feet, bruised but unbloodied, and charged in again, moving behind it to take the back shot (I was to pissed to be proud), and saw it start to draw its foot up to kick Buffy away. I read the intent in the little shift of weight as it leaned just a tiny bit forward (all the while parrying Buffy's sword blows with its bare hands), and dodged the kick it fired back at me, instead of forwards at Buffy.

I slammed the Scythe into its neck, swinging with all I had— and the blade _bounced,_ ringing and stinging in my hands.

"Insolent human whelp!" the thing thundered. "I am K'parun, mightiest of djinn! Your paltry Slayer weapon means nothing to me!"

"Screw you," I muttered— and hiked a foot into its balls from behind.

That staggered it a little bit, and Buffy took advantage, administering several spinning slashes to it, driving it back— but not drawing blood.

"Ooo, big, bad djinn," Willow said from the doorway. I glanced over, saw her floating there, hands on her hips, looking unimpressed. "You know, I'd like you a lot better if you looked like Barbara Eden.

"And by the way? Force fields? That's cheating!"

Wil's hands came up, reached out like she was grabbing the shoulders of a robe or a coat, and, from fifteen feet away, she made a gesture like tearing something off of the djinn. I saw something bright and gleaming in her hands for just a second— and suddenly the djinn's skin looked dull and muted, not shiny and lustrous.

"Have fun, guys," Will said— and leaned against the door jamb to watch, still floating a few inches in the air.

"Oh, baby," I said, caressing the scythe's blade as the djinn, panicked, looked around for a place to retreat to. "Let's go to town, shall we?"

About then, Buffy tossed her sword behind her and launched herself at the djinn, firing a huge, powerful replacement sidekick into the small of his back. He almost flew towards me, staying on his feet only through fancy footwork— and I swung the scythe like a baseball bat, a gentle dip at the middle of the swing, then bringing it up like I was trying to get under the ball.

I missed the neck, sank the blade of the Scythe into a place high up on the thing's chest, sending a bright orange blood spray out from the wound.

"Should've stayed out of my school, you bastard!" I snarled as I jerked the blade free.

"Mistress, wait!" the djinn said, its voice bubbling and hissing. "I will grant you the wish, only let me live!"

"You'll twist it," I said, kicking it in the gut, driving it back to Buffy, who gave it a spinning back kick, knocking it deeper into the room. I started that way, adding, "It's what your kind do. I know that."

"I will grant you the true wish!" the demon cried out. "I swear it, on my life! One wish, free of… interpretation. Only what you truly wish for, no changes, no twists, no recanting!"

"There's nothing you could give me that's worth the lives you've taken, the one you tried to screw up!" I said, drawing back to swing.

"I can bring back your father!" it cried. "I can make him live, truly live, make him a body again, just like his original, and— because he does not yet rest, and is not in the afterlife— I can put his soul in it!"

That made me freeze— just for a second. But I knew. I knew what Daddy would say, even if I thought I could trust this _thing_.

"My Daddy isn't resting yet because he wants to take care of me," I said, my voice shaking and going up and down the scale. "He wants to do that because he's proud of me, of what I'm doing, how I'm doing it— and you, you son of a _bitch,_ aren't going to make me give him any reason to _stop_ being proud of me!"

I leaped in, swinging the Scythe, and it brought up its hands, tried to protect its throat.

The Scythe went right through its hands like they were water, deep into its neck, bit bone with a satisfying crunch— and passed on through. The head fell to the ground with an anticlimactic thump— and I stood there, shaking.

After a moment, Buffy's hand fell on my shoulder, turned me to her— and she hugged me, not saying a word, or having to— just hugged me, telling me in the absolute best way possible that I'd made the right choice.

Then Glitter landed on my shoulder, and Buffy took the Scythe for a moment so my pseudo dragon friend could climb into my arms and be cuddled, making me feel a whole lot better with her bubbling purr and her gentle nuzzling of my cheek.


	58. Chapter 58

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 58

_Elaine:_

I heard the offer the djinn made Rose— and I started that way, not thinking, just wanting to kill anything so evil that it would stoop that low. Xander stopped me— just stepped in front of me, shook his head a little, didn't recoil when I glared at him.

I stayed— and in a moment, Glitter dropped off my shoulder and flew in. A moment or two later, Rose came out, Buffy behind her, and Rose hugged me immediately, shaking and not-quite-crying. Glitter, still on Rose's shoulder, cooed a little, and wrapped her wings around both of our heads. After a long, trembling moment, Rose looked up, kissed me chastely, then slowly pulled back.

"Sorry," she said to everyone. "Bastard hit me where I live. I'm good, now."

"I understand," Sara said. "Believe me, I do."

"Me, too," Buffy said. "It's okay, Rose."

"As senior Watcher on duty, allow me to fill in for Giles," Whitey said. His next words were in a very good British accent, and a pretty darned good imitation of Giles. "There is no need to apologize for being human, Rose."

Rose laughed a little, looked around at everyone, and said, "Okay— original marching order, people. Let's clean this place out."

It really wasn't that awful. Okay, the six displacer beasts— six-legged, jungle-cat-looking things with a pair of tentacles growing from their front shoulders, and the ability to warp perceptions so that you saw them to the left or right of where they actually were, those were nasty. But Wil gave them a roasting, and they couldn't displace the smoke from their singed coats. We put them down.

The worst part about the dozen zombies was the combined smell— okay, and the rotten, runny look of the things. But with the blunt weapons Rose had insisted we bring, we did fine. Even Lydia, who didn't have a blunt weapon, did okay, saved Willow from one that had gotten behind her. Lydia saw it raise its stone-hard fist to hit Wil, leaped forward and planted a kind-of-awkward but strong kick in the thing's gut, driving it back. Then she picked up a metal trashcan— tall, narrow, but still, metal— and clubbed the thing to death with it, while Willow gaped in amazement (and a lot of lust).

Then Lydia proved utterly and completely that she's a member of Team Slayer in good standing, probably forever. She straightened after splatting the zombie's head all over the floor, set the trashcan back where it had been, looked around to see all of us staring at her, and grinned.

"Trashed that bastard _good,_ didn't I?" she asked, grinning.

We groaned and laughed and shook our heads— and she ate it up.

The two ogres— they were a joke! They were too big for the hall they were in, and got in each others' way so much that killing them was a cakewalk.

"That's twenty," Rose said, wiping the Scythe clean on the bearskin that one of the (now dead) ogres had on. "One to go. With my luck, it'll be a damned beholder. Floating eye thing— very magical."

"No way," Sara said. "It'll be a gorgon. Those things are hellish hard to kill. I mean, come on— a big metal bull? No fun."

We'd gone most of the way through the school by then, from the opposite way that we'd come that morning, so all that was left was the gym, the pool and the hall with the shop classes off of it.

With one beastie left, Rose had relaxed the marching order some, and Xander and Whitey got a little ahead, obeying their manly urge to be at the front. We came to the gym doors, and Xander cautiously opened one, put his eye against the slit. A second later, he eased the door closed very, very carefully, then turned and stood with his back to it, arms and legs spread wide as though to insure no one else opened the door.

"What is it, Xander?" Rose asked. "What's in there?"

"To paraphrase Roy Scheider from Jaws," Xander said, his voice shaky, "You're gonna need a bigger stake!"

"Gorgon?" Sara asked.

"No, I wish," Xander said. "Really, a big metal bull, that'd be fine."

"Okay, giant of some sort," Rose said. "Fire giant, maybe— that'd be about the djinn's speed."

"No, no," Xander said, sounding insanely chipper for someone whose voice was cracking like a twelve or thirteen year old boy's would. "Rose, what's the name of the game all these things came from again?"

"Dungeons and Dra—oh, shit!" Rose went whiter than usual, and for her, that takes doing. "Are you saying that there's a— a—"

"Dragon!" Xander said, sounding cheerfully panicked. "Big old honking dragon!"

"I don't suppose it's a metallic dragon?" Sara said, her voice indicating that, while she didn't have much hope, she was going to cling to that little bit she had for as long as she could. "You know, gold, silver?"

"Red!" Xander said, his voice still manic with repressed fear. "Very red. Redder. Reddest!"

"It's a little one, right?" Rose asked, hoping hard.

"If that's little," Xander said, not moving away from the door at all, "then please, merciful Zeus, may I never, _ever_ see what you'd call _big!_

"It's _forty feet long,_ Rose!"

"Which means that it's somewhere between old and very old," Rose said to herself, ignoring our odd looks as she sorted through the game-based information she carried in her head. "Which means… ick, way too many dice of damage for the breath weapon… Willow? I don't suppose you have a resist fire spell that you can hit us all with?"

"I can protect you from fire, for a bit," Willow said. "But… Rose, a forty foot long dragon? What do you do against that?"

"Scythe," Rose said. "It's made to slay evil things, and red dragons, very down with the evil."

"Maybe I should—" Buffy started.

"No, Buffy," Rose said, shaking her head. "This one's mine. I've killed a half a dozen dragons in my head, with help from people not half so deadly and smart as you guys. So… time I did it for real.

"But I am going to say— folks, any of you with a damned brain will walk out of here right now— and you will never be less than loved in my eyes. I won't be disappointed in you, won't shun you, won't stop loving you.

"This is not a game, this is not a man-sized critter, it isn't even from this dimension. It's the thing that people where it's from fear more than anything else— and the wise do not mess with it."

After a long moment, Xander said, "Well, hell— I never was all that wise. I'm in."

"Me, too," Sara said. "I'm like Rose— I've done this in my head. It's time to make that for real."

"Always wanted to be a knight in shining armor," Whitey said. "What's a knight who's never faced a dragon?"

"No mojo, no chance," Willow said. "I'm up for it."

The others chimed in one at a time, even Glitter, who somehow made it plain that she resented anything calling itself a dragon and that would hurt good people.

"Tactics, boss?" Buffy said, once we'd all said we were going in.

"Well— Willow, you fireproof us all as best you can, then— holy crap!" Rose's face looked hopeful suddenly, and she said, "Willow, you said you could send Glitter home— can you send this thing home!"

"I can!" Willow said, her face lighting up. "It'll take a little time, and I'll have to be in the room with it, but yes, I can!"

"Define 'a little time,' please?" Rose asked.

"A minute, maybe a minute and a quarter," Willow said. "The spell… well, without a diagram, I'll have to recite it very, very carefully."

"Okay, so… all we have to do is buy Willow time," Rose said. She grinned. "And— of course— irritate the hell out of a big, ugly, red dragon.

"Never let it be said that I let anybody get bored on a mission…."

We groaned. We planned. Willow made us all very resistant to heat and flame. We charged in.

And _nothing_ went according to plan.

We forgot that, while we might be immune to the flame… the school wasn't.

Rose led from the front, charged in at the dragon— which was so completely taken aback that it could only stare for a moment, lying there curled up like a cat, front paws tucked up beneath its body, looking for all the world like a giant Glitter (well, if Glitter was covered in bony spikes, sharp edges and had a ridged back instead of being all sleek and smooth, like she is).

"HEY! LIZARD-BREATH!" Rose bellowed— and leaped at the thing, spinning as she jumped, the Scythe slashing out as she got close— and opening a great tear on the dragon's muzzle, about halfway between nose and eyes.

It roared, deafening us all— and it flamed Rose.

Or, rather, it flamed where Rose had been. She'd dropped from that attack, rolled backwards, then sideways— and the gout of flame that followed missed her completely.

Of course, it did set the hardwood floor ablaze. Uh-oh…!

"Missed!" Rose crowed, even as the rest of us fanned out around it, and it stood. "Whatsamatter, Smaug, too old for fighting adventurers?"

It turned toward Rose, lifted its tail for balance— and the blast of fire that it let out was accompanied by a hideous roar of pain and anger. It leaped up, twisted, spun a full one hundred and eighty degrees— and, in doing so, flung Lydia Heller sideways, sent her rolling up against the rolled-up gyms mats against the wall. I was worried for a second— but she bounced to her feet, grinning a positively _malicious_ grin. he blade of one of her sabers was bloody….

Then I saw the line of blood, darker red that the dragon's hide, on its underside, running down the dragon's butt— and I laughed out loud. Lydia had stabbed the thing in the ass!

I jumped in, chopped at it with my short sword, felt the shock go clear up my arm— and barely drew blood, produced only a tiny scratch. Damn! That sucker was _tough!_

I leaped back as it spun again, saw a few other bloody scratches on it— but not many. It seemed to be trying to follow Rose— and Sara, sweet, lovable, little Sara, had gone completely apeshit-bug-brain-crack-monkey insane!

She was on the thing's back, near the base of its long neck, and trying to climb upwards!

I shouted at her, and she didn't even look around. She just kept climbing….

Every leap it made to spin endangered Sara. If she fell, and it stepped on her… disaster.

Slashing hadn't worked. I knew I'd never hurt this thing with a quarterstaff. So… I took a running start, leaped in front of it, and started tumbling to one side. It turned to follow me, moving more slowly than when it did that improbable leap-and-turn, and I tumbled and flipped, cartwheeled into handspring, went to a series of back whips from that, and still it followed me.

Then it turned its head to the left and sprayed flame a couple of feet in front of me. A second later, I was tumbling through hell— but it didn't burn me. I felt hotter than I ever had before, but I didn't catch fire.

Not believing that it could have failed to kill me, not understanding the sheer power that Willow had laid on us to protect us from its flame, the dragon forgot about me, and went looking for Rose again.

That's when Buffy stabbed it in the tail, trying to pin the tail to the ground.

The dragon snarled, snapped it's tail sideways— and Buffy flew up and out, slammed into the folded-back bleachers about thirty feet off of the floor, and slid to the ground, unconscious at least.

"BUFFY!" Xander and Sunrise yelled in perfect synch— but neither ran to her. None of us did— we _couldn't,_ and oh, god, that hurt!

The dragon gouted flame at Rose again, and now a ridiculous amount of the floor and some of the folded-up bleachers were on fire.

I saw Sunrise look a weird mixture of inspired and pissed, and reach behind herself, up under her sweatshirt, and come out with a holes-cut-in-it and heavily drawn-on Frisbee. I figured she was going to try and get a protective circle around Buffy— but she had other ideas.

Sara, working as quickly as she dared, had gotten up on the dragon's head. She was so little, I don't think it even knew she was there.

"SARA!" Sunrise yelled. "Wait 'til it's facing me, then stab it! GET ITS MOUTH OPEN!"

Sara, brave little thing that she is, shouted, "ON IT!" and moved farther up on the dragon's head.

"ROSE!" Sunrise bellowed. "THIS WAY!"

Rose did the neatest pivot-and-reverse I've ever even imagined, charged back towards Sunrise, moving out at an angle, so it wouldn't turn past her too quickly.

The dragon turned, with Sara clinging to a bony spine above one eye, and when it was facing Sunrise, Sara reached down— and stabbed it in the eye with her bastard sword. The thing opened its mouth to roar in pain— and Sunrise flung the Frisbee, shouting, _"Alahk antaray—"_

The Frisbee went into the dragon's mouth, and it gulped, swallowing the plastic disk.

"—_RIKAR!"_ Sunrise shouted— and the dragon's throat bulged as the hard-sided protective circle formed in its throat.

No way it could breathe fire, not now! We had a _chance!_

Sara felt it shift its head under her— and stood and ran down its neck, then slid off of its back and lived up to her own name from the Guardians; she went and got between the dragon and Buffy, shouted, "Buffy's alive!" after checking her pulse.

In the meantime, the dragon had gone into "super pissed" mode. It spun around, lashing out with tail and claws, trying to bite anything it saw— and it smacked Willow with its tail, sent her careening into the concrete wall past the basketball net at the east end of the gym.

She didn't fall, didn't seem badly hurt, even— but she shouted, "DAMMIT! I lost the spell! Have to start over!"

"No!" Whitey shouted. "No time! Willow, get offensive! I'll be right back— I know how to kill this thing!

"Rose— door to boys' locker room!"

"Southeast corner!" Rose shouted. "Whatever you're going to do, hurry!"

Whitey ran out, Willow turned to face the dragon— and Rose charged it again.

Even as Willow started a hail storm centered on the dragon, the balls of ice making it roar in pain, Rose went in sideways, tried to run under it, where its hide would be less tough. The dragon saw her— and slammed a wing down in front of her, blocking her path. Even as Rose drew back to slash the wing, the dragon snapped the wing out and up with a sound like a sheet snapping in the wind— and Rose flew through the air, crashed through the clear plastic backboard of the basketball net at the west end of the court, hit the concrete wall with a horrible thud, and slid to the ground.

Glitter shrieked, even as I screamed "ROSE!"

I couldn't go to her, any more than Xander or Sunrise could go to Buffy. Glitter hovered for a moment, then arrowed at her much bigger cousin, darted around its head— and suddenly it bellowed, an ear-shocking roar of maddened pain, and closed its one good eye even as it tossed its head, smacking Glitter up and away from it. Satisfied that she'd helped, Glitter arrowed for Rose, landed next to her unconscious form— and made a keening noise that scared me silly.

Willow was chanting again, pointing one hand back towards the doors opposite the ones we'd come through, the other at the dragon— and suddenly, a torrent of water poured through the door, lifted itself from the floor, and shot at the dragon with a force that probably would have killed a human being, and beat the flying hell out of a Slayer.

The dragon didn't like that— not at all. As a bonus, the runoff put out the floor-fires, or most of them.

"Elaine!" Whitey yelled. "Here!"

I glanced around, saw him with a big gas cylinder, like a propane tank, only painted green, on some sort of dolly. It stood about three feet tall, and was maybe six or eight inches in diameter.

"Can you throw this in the dragon's mouth?" Whitey asked. "Hard!"

"Give it!" I said, wanting a shot at hurting this thing that had— had hurt Rose.

It was heavy— but I was pissed, and I'm a Slayer.

"Everyone, CLEAR THE ROOM!" Whitey yelled. "Willow— you last! Get our wounded, people!"

The door to the hall opened then, and I saw Mr. Dunlap, looking pale and frightened, standing in the doorway, with the cop from out front behind him.

"Thomas, help me!" Lydia cried, from where she was trying to pick up Rose without risking hurting her.

"Officer!" Xander yelled. "Over here!"

Thomas and Lydia got Rose out, Xander and the young cop got Buffy. Ballard, Sunrise and Sh'rin kept leaping around the dragon, slashing and cutting at it, even as Sara moved to join them, after running over to scoop up the Scythe from where Rose had dropped it.

"HEY!" I screamed. "HEY, YOU SCALY BAG OF SHIT! OVER HERE!"

It ignored me— and Whitey added his voice, even as all the others started to move out of the room, being pushed by Sara.

"Dawn!" Whitey yelled. "Wait at the door!"

"Got it!" Dawn yelled.

Willow drifted over by me and Whitey, and kept firing blasts of freezing blue light at the dragon. It didn't like that, not at all— but it didn't hate it as much as I would have liked.

Whitey and I yelled our heads off— and finally, in blind (literally) anger, the thing opened its mouth and tried to flame us, forgetting the magical obstruction in its throat. I had the top of that green canister by one of the metal handles on it, and as soon as the dragon's mouth opened, I flung it as hard as I could. It flew to the back of the dragon's mouth, and I saw it swallow.

"OUT!" Whitey yelled. "Both of you, NOW, OUT!"

We ran out of the gym, the dragon's head turning to follow us as it took a couple of hesitant steps after us. I saw Sunrise in the doorway, watching, and ran past her.

Whitey grabbed Sunrise by the arm, pulled her back, and shouted, "Kill that protective circle, now!"

Dawn waved a hand, muttered a word —

— and the world exploded, driving us down the hall towards the exit in a rush of flame and smoke. Willow got a force field around us, and we only felt beat _half_ to death when we tumbled out though the doors at the end of the hall and practically into the arms of our friends.

"What the hell was that!" Xander asked from where he knelt protectively next to Buffy.

As I went to Rose's side, I heard Whitey explain with some satisfaction, "Oxygen tank. Had one in the coach's office. Had Elaine toss it down that bastard's throat— then had Dawn shut off the spell that blocked the dragon's flame."

"Great… idea," I heard Rose say as I knelt next to her, crying and afraid— and now relieved. Glitter burbled in relief, and lay next to Rose's head as she spoke again. "Good call, Whitey."

"Very," Buffy said hoarsely from over by Xander. "Saved us all."

"Buffy!" Xander and Sunrise said at the same moment.

"Willow… can you get us over to the vehicles?" Buffy asked, her voice rough and raspy.

"Oh, heck with it," Wil said. "Buffy, that's not enough, not right now.

"Officer? Can I talk to you a second?"

Willow spoke to the cop, waved her fingers in little patterns while she did— and he wandered off towards his police car, looking a little confused, and having forgotten all the weird stuff.

Then Willow said, "Everyone as close together as you can, please."

Willow chanted while walking in a circle around us, hands moving gracefully, and, just as the first of a line of fire trucks pulled into the faculty parking lot— we were home, in the yard next to the driveway, the SUV, Mr. Dunlap's sweet little Jaguar and Lydia's Mustang all in the drive beside us.

Willow promptly sat down in the grass, then flopped backwards with a whimper. "I hate teleporting!" she groaned. "My head's going to hurt for a week."

We must have made some noise teleporting in, because Vincent, Vivian and Brianne came charging outside, and soon enough, Whitey, with Willow's help, had determined that everyone would live and be okay. Rose had a broken arm and a concussion, but those would heal fast— two days, maybe— and Buffy had a broken leg, a broken arm, and a concussion. All of us had cuts and bruises, and, despite Willow's fire-shielding us, some singed hair and first degree burns.

But we beat down a dragon— and we lived to tell the tale.

Not a bad night's work, not at all!


	59. Chapter 59

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 59

_Rose:_

Okay, pay attention, multiverse, for Rose is about to lay down the law:

_NO MORE DRAGONS! __**EVER!**_

Once is at least nineteen thousand times more than enough!

(_Pseudo dragons,_ on the other hand, are _always_ welcome!)

We now return you to your regularly scheduled story.

Once we were all inside, Vincent (who had been fully trained as a field medic, on top of all his crazy, kill-what-moves training) splinted my arm and Buffy's arm and leg. Soon, I was resting comfortably on the loveseat, my head in Elaine's lap, Glitter curled up on my chest, while Buffy lay on the couch with her head propped on Xander's leg, Sunrise sitting on the floor next to the couch, holding Buffy's good hand.

We told the story, and I approved of the parts I'd missed, as did Buffy— my friends did a great job! Buffy made sure to point out that I hadn't failed— no one had thought the djinn would be crazy enough to bring in a freaking dragon!

"And you, Glitter," I said, chuckling. "You clawed that thing's eye! Brave beyond belief, sweetie!"

Glitter let her mouth hang open in a pseudo dragon grin, held up her little claws— then brought her tail forward and hovered the tip, stinger extended, between them.

"Clawed it _and_ stung it!" I said, laughing. "Glitter, you're brilliant!"

She preened and cuddled closer.

"There is one problem," Mr. Dunlap said when the story was finished. "There was a lot of damage to the school. And while Willow may have gotten rid of the corpses of the other monsters… what will the various authorities think of roasted dragon carcass?"

"Free lunch?" Xander quipped.

"Mr. Dunlap, maybe you could find out how much damage has been done to the school?" I suggested. "I mean— aren't they likely to have called your house by now?"

"Oh, damn," he said. "Good thought. Now… I'll call home and check my messages, then claim to have been out. Lydia, haven't we been having a drink?"

"Oh, yeah," Lydia said. She had an icepack trapped between her chair and the shoulder she'd hit on when she'd been tossed after giving the dragon a stab in the ass. "Right. Lee Phelps will maybe glare at you for a while, but I'm sure you'll survive."

"Yes, well, better him mad at me than you," Mr. Dunlap said, and snorted laughter. "Stabbed a dragon in the butt? Lydia, that's insane!"

"Worked, though," she said brightly. "Besides, Thomas— I'm here to glory in it!"

Mr. Dunlap called home, got his messages, then called the Principal's cell number. After a few minutes of "Yes, I see," and "uh-huh," and a few of the ever-reliable "oh, dear," he disconnected and said, "Well, Rose… no school the rest of this week."

"Hurray," I said. "I couldn't go anyway— hard to explain a broken arm that heals in a couple days— so at least I won't be missing anything."

"How bad is it?" Whitey asked.

"The gym and the pool are total write-offs," Mr. Dunlap said. "The hall outside the gym, on the commons area, that needs some reinforcement. Both sets of locker rooms and the pool were extensively damaged. So… we're open for business Monday morning, and study hall replaces gym for the rest of the semester.

"At least, we're open for business if the state clears it. This… finally got media attention, and the media is making a huge fuss out of the monsters, and then the explosion and fire tonight."

"They'll blame the government," Whitey said. He smiled at Chantelle, curled up sleepily against him, and said, "Watch and see. They'll decide the monsters were a part of some government experiment gone wrong, every company in the area with any government contracts will be accused of harboring secret government labs— and then something else will capture the media's attention, and only the people who read the Weekly World News and haunt internet sites about conspiracy theories will even remember it."

(Note to readers: Whitey had it exactly right— a week later, intense solar flares caused some spectacular Northern Lights, police in Ireland started investigating a hoax about a woman abandoning her baby in an abandoned apartment, the FDA approved a long term injection for the treatment of schizophrenia, and we dropped right off the news radar.)

About three, Mr. Dunlap went home, Lydia let herself be persuaded to stay in a guest room overnight (we had those, now, with Mom having moved in with Giles, and Whitey and Chantelle moved out to their little house), grabbed what she called her "emergency overnight bag" from her car, and everyone went to bed.

Even after all the danger, I was too tired to be horny. I fell asleep about three breaths after putting my head on the pillow in Elaine's room.

Now, in the morning was a different story. I woke about nine— and found that my arm didn't hurt too much to make love. After asking Glitter to give us some privacy (she chuckled and went out to lay on a chair on Elaine's balcony and soak up sun), we made love with some pretty extreme intensity for a while, then moved to the shower, did the same for a while before getting clean and getting out. Elaine helped me dress (one-handed dressing sucks!), I called Glitter in, and we went down to breakfast.

Whitey was at the stove, cooking a HUGE brunch for everyone— a brilliant idea, and very, very popular. Lydia came in just after we did, wearing clean jeans and a polo shirt, took a deep breath of the mingled scents of pancakes, eggs, bacon, breakfast steaks, hash browns and fresh biscuits, looked at Chantelle and said, "Young lady, you married well! Not only does he slay dragons, he cooks!"

"Oh, I know I married well," Chantelle said. "He also spoils me, loves my baby like he was the blood-father, and gives one hell of a foot rub."

"If you divorce him, I will personally have you thrown out of the Woman's Guild," Buffy said from the doorway, where she was working her way through with the aid of a single crutch. "Cooks, slays dragons— and gives _foot rubs_?

"Now, Xander is good with the monsters, and he's a good cook, but I haven't gotten a foot rub, yet. However, I can recommend his neck rubs— he's good!"

"I will promise a foot rub as soon as your leg's healed," Xander said from behind Buffy. "I've had compliments on my foot rubs, but I'm better at neck rubs."

"Foot rubbing is essential," Buffy said firmly. "I will accept your offer, kind sir, as soon as both legs work."

We ate, Xander and Ballard cleaned up— and Whitey declared a day off for everyone, not just those of us who'd gone into Dungeons and Dragons High the night before.

Brian Keller showed up at about one, and I answered the door, having heard the distinctive growl of his old, beat-up Ford Escort (it had a muffler only in the loosest of terms) and known it was him.

He saw Glitter draped around my neck and was, for the first time in my memory (and we'd been friends since the second grade) struck dumb with astonishment.

"Hi Brian," I said, grinning at his gaping stare. "Come on in."

He came, staring at Glitter, who lifted her head and peep-growled at me questioningly.

"Glitter, this is my oldest friend, Brian Keller," I said formally. "Brian, this is my newest friend, Glitter the pseudo dragon. She's saved my life a couple of times now, and she's just as sweet as peach ice cream."

"But… but… how? Where? How? When? And how!" Brian stared, and when Glitter nudged his arm with her nose, absently reached up to stroke her head, very gingerly. As she leaned into that, he grew bolder.

"Well, I got the story from her last night," I said. "Seems that the medusa in the school yesterday was hunting her— I don't know if it was for food or spite— when the djinn summoned the medusa. Glitter got dragged along for the ride."

"That is… wow!" Brian kept scratching, and when Glitter flapped off of me, he caught her as she settled into his arms, stroked her, set her to purring— and grinned hugely. "Rose, this is the coolest thing ever!"

"I can't argue much," I said, leading him into the living room. "Unless we start counting girlfriends, anyway."

"Good point," he said. "But as far as good from the bad goes… damn, this is cool!"

"Yeah, she's a sweetie," I said. "And like I said, she's saved my life a time or two now."

"Okay, I came over to ask what happened at the school anyway," Brian said. "Now it's not merely _want_ to hear, it's _have_ to hear!"

Elaine, Ballard, Sunrise, Sh'rin and I told the tale, aided by Lydia, when she came in from watching Whitey teaching Xander some Hwa Rang Do, and Brian was delighted with the story.

"Blew up a dragon with an oxygen tank and a protective circle!" he cackled when we'd finished. "But, Miss Heller… stabbing a dragon in the butt is usually _not_ considered a survival tactic!"

"It worked," Lydia said. "Brian, if you can keep school and not-school separate, you can call me Lydia in not-school situations."

"Thanks, Lydia," Brian said. He laughed again. "Well, if nothing else, you can say that you're the first human on earth to give a dragon a pain in the ass!"

We talked a while, just shooting the breeze. About three, Mr. Dunlap came over, said that the school had cancelled gym classes and athletics until the new gym was done— probably next year.

"However, we will still be having our Halloween dance. In light of our plight, Illinois State University has agreed to let us use the Brown Ballroom in the Bone Student Center for the dance— and to waive parking fees for any car with a student in it who has a valid BHS student ID."

"Oh, good," Lydia said. "I have a costume already, I'd hate to have wasted the money and the effort."

"What are you going as, a dragon proctologist?" Brian asked brightly— and Mr. Dunlap almost fell out of his chair laughing.

Whitey came in to see what all the noise was about, joined in the laughter— and pretty soon, most of the household was sitting around talking. Kimber came over about three-thirty, and after a while, we kids took off for the rec room, where we watched a movie until supper time.

Lydia and Mr. Dunlap stayed for dinner, and both went home afterwards. The rest of the day was… well, it would have been completely uneventful, if not for Delia.

She hadn't retreated into her shell after Glitter dragged her out, but she still stayed quiet a lot. She'd say hello, goodbye, variants on both, thank you, you're welcome— polite things. Once in a while, she'd spontaneously hug someone, never a problem. But that was about it.

That night, an hour or so after dinner, she came into the living room, where we were all sitting around watching a movie. Maybe ten minutes in, she stood, walked over to Diane Hodges, and said, very quietly, "Talk now, please?"

Diane didn't say a word, just stood, took Delia's hand, and led her upstairs to the parlor on the second floor that she used as an office.

About nine-thirty— almost two hours after they'd gone upstairs— Diane and Delia came back down. Delia had obviously been crying, and hadn't stopped shaking yet when they came down. She went straight to Nancy, crawled into Nancy's lap like a much younger girl— and when Nancy stood and led Delia out, she went without protest, her face buried in Nancy's side.

As soon as they were gone, Diane burst into tears. I almost swallowed my tongue— Diane _never_ got upset!

Whitey handled it— he went to the study, got her a stiff drink, made her take it. She sipped— then suddenly tossed it off like it was nothing but water, not Giles's really good scotch.

"Can you tell us?" Whitey asked. "Without violating any oaths?"

"I… a little," Diane said. "But… ask me no questions, okay? I'll give you what I can. When Giles and Kelly get home, I'll brief them as much as… as I can stand to."

Sixteen days before she'd been found in the Lake Tahoe State Park in Nevada, Ardelia "Delia" Kent had been vacationing with her father, stepmother, older sister, Anastasia, and little half-brother, Daniel, in Sugar Pine Point State Park… in California. The two places were only 25 miles or so apart (Whitey checked) by road, maybe sixteen to eighteen miles straight line— but straight line meant crossing Lake Tahoe.

They'd been camping, having a good time— Delia loved the outdoors, loved camping, loved her family, idolized her older sister, who, at sixteen, was already modeling. After six days, Delia had woken up one night and wandered down to the lakeshore, a hundred yards or so from their camp. She'd been on her way back, maybe fifty yards from the campsite when she'd heard her father start screaming. She'd run back, switched to sneaking as she got close… and seen the men. Six of them, big, burly men in camouflage pants and black t-shirts.

They had Delia's family tied to trees, and had started skinning her father. Skinning him, asking if he was a "nigger" on the inside— Delia's stepmother had been African American, her little half-brother of mixed race— pouring alcohol on him from the many bottles of whiskey that they had with them as they skinned him.

Delia had watched it all, been unable to look away. The men had murdered her whole family by skinning, and she'd seen it all. She'd seen her whole family _butchered_— and the men had left, taking the bodies and the camping equipment with them. They'd gathered up the tents without emptying them, so they'd never known that Delia was there, never seen her empty sleeping bag.

She walked away. Found a boat, rowed out into the lake, kept rowing until she passed out, slept in the boat, repeated the process. Eventually she'd come ashore near Incline Village, Nevada… and just walked away from the boat, and away from town. She'd been found in the woods days later, unable to talk for the hurt of what she'd seen, essentially catatonic.

I was crying when Diane finished, and I was a long way from the only one.

Glitter snuggled close to me, made comforting noises. Elaine had her arms around me, and between those two things, I calmed down fairly quickly. But… god! That people could do things like that, people! Demons, monsters, okay, you expect that, they're evil— but _people_ should be better!

Everyone calmed down some, and Whitey asked the question that was on the minds of many of us.

"Does she have family?" he asked. "Aunt, uncles, grandparents?"

"I don't know yet," Diane said. She handed him her empty glass, shook her head when he cocked an eyebrow to ask about a refill. "I couldn't ask— she started very slow, and I didn't dare force her, Whitey, didn't dare— forcing a release like this is as good as damming it up. Then it flooded, and I was trying to process it myself, and… I didn't ask."

"Not a problem," Whitey said. "If you do find out, in the course of things… I think they deserve to know she's alive— if that's what Delia wants."

"I agree," Diane said. She stood, looked at me, said, "Rose, would you be willing to play trainer for a few minutes? I need— very badly I need!— to beat the shit out of a punching bag. Or a kick bag, maybe."

"Yeah, I can do that," I agreed. "Glitter, you want to come or stay?"

Glitter answered by dropping off of my shoulder and flying over to land in the lap of Jenna Darius, who was sitting in a chair and staring at the floor. When Glitter landed in her lap, Jenna immediately picked her up and cuddled her.

"I love that little dragon," Diane said softly. "Lucky you, having her attach herself to you— very lucky you."

"Maybe so," I said, starting for the basement. "But I had help with the luck, even."

"How so?" Diane asked, following me.

"Simple enough," I said, heading to the training room with the bags. "Glitter came to me, specifically, because she liked my courage, and… well, she liked that I got super-mad over the monsters. Over how they were hurting people who hadn't done anything wrong, you know?

"And that I got from my Mom and my Daddy. So… they did me a bigger favor than I knew, even, raising me to be pissed at that sort of thing." I got behind the heavy bag, not bracing it yet, as Diane was stretching and warming up. "They made me who I am. I'm grateful for that— because it's gotten me the power to make a difference, a bunch of friends and lovers that I wouldn't have found were it not for that power, and the best friend I've ever had, one who'll give up everything she ever _knew_ to stay with me.

"That makes me feel very much like several trillion dollars. So… my parents, they did me right. If I ever do have a kid, or adopt one, I just hope I can remember the things they did for me, and do them for my kid."

"Rose… so few young people ever acknowledge that their parents did them right that I firmly believe that you will raise a child right, someday," Diane said, setting herself to work the bag as I braced it. "That you know you've been lucky… well, that's a rare and wonderful thing.

"Ready?"

Diane worked the bag for a while, getting more and more violent, and I held it and tried to identify her style. There were some hand blows and kicks that I'd never seen, and that looked… intriguing.

(Okay, so I'm a martial arts junkie. Sue me!)

When she'd exhausted herself, we started back upstairs, and I asked her what the style was.

"La savate," Diane said. "French in origin. Pretty popular over there, and in some parts of the US. I learned it in New York City."

I filed that away for later, and went upstairs to find Glitter now sitting on Chantelle's lap, head against Chantelle's swollen belly, eyes bright and interested as she listened to little Jocelyn's heartbeat. Then I took a second look… and frowned a little.

"Chantelle, you're getting bigger pretty fast, aren't you?" I asked. "I swear, you look… I don't know, seven or eight months gone, not five and a half."

"I know," Chantelle said with a sigh. "I got an OB appointment tomorrow, I'm gonna ask about that. My body's all actin' like I'm in my third trimester and stuff. So you ain't just imaginin' things."

"Well, maybe it's the Slayer power," I suggested, grinning. "Willow and Sh'rin both said it couldn't possibly hurt little Jocelyn— maybe it's helping more than they guessed."

"Gonna be awkward to explain if it is," Chantelle said. "But… well, I ain't scared. I feel great, and I feel… all _connected_ to Jocelyn. I mean— I know that's pretty normal, but this feels… bigger than normal. More connected.

"Probably just wishful thinkin', but that's how it feels."

"Honey, wishful thinking has taken on a whole new meaning since last May," I said, grinning at Chantelle. "You may be absolutely right— no way to tell, not yet.

"Glitter, you coming to bed, or staying here?"

Glitter got up, head-rubbed Chantelle's belly, head-bumped her and cheek-nuzzled her goodnight, and followed me upstairs. Elaine had to go to class the next day, so I lay down, opened up Guards! Guards, and read aloud for a while before shutting off the light and going to sleep with Glitter curled up on my stomach.


	60. Chapter 60

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 60

_Elaine:_

Things stayed quiet for a while, thank god. We needed quiet!

Over the next few days after her telling Diane what had driven her into the near-catatonic state she'd been in, Delia Kent blossomed into a girl we barely recognized— but I think all of us loved her, approved of the changes in her— or most of them. She sometimes got… well, angry. Over little things, or nothing. Not often, and Diane always got Delia to recognize it as a symptom of what had happened to her, which always calmed her down— but it happened. Nobody blamed her.

But mostly? She was sweet. She had developed a fixation on _touching,_ but in that household, that really wasn't a problem. She hugged people easily and often, sat holding hands with whoever was in closest proximity to her, or leaned against people, or put an arm around whoever she was with. No problems there— we loved it.

Her vocabulary improved by leaps and bounds, though sometimes she'd have to stop in mid-sentence, go hunting for a word. I asked Diane if there was any significance to most of the words that Delia had to go digging for having to do, at least distantly, with violence— punch, kick, block, throw, dodge, hurt, pain, run, things like that— and Diane looked at me with respect and said I should think about becoming a psychologist, because there was a definite connection, and no one else but Whitey had noticed it, so far as she knew.

"No, I'm going to dance," I said. "But… maybe when I'm too old to dance I can think about that."

I noticed something about Glitter that sort of tickled me, too. A couple of things, even.

First, that pseudo dragon was more affectionate than a good-tempered cat, and she seemed to honestly love everyone in the house. She would sit on anyone's lap, snuggle, rejoice in being stroked or cuddled, sit on shoulders and watch things around her… but only with Rose did Glitter do that little drape-around-the-neck trick. Never anyone else, not even Delia— Glitter's second favorite person.

Rose was Glitter's human, and that's all there was to it.

Second… Glitter always knew when someone was hurting, or feeling down— and she tried to help. She'd go climb in a lap, or sit on a shoulder, or sit in the arms of whoever felt less than good, and do her best to make them feel better. Between our amazement at her very presence (she was, after all, a mythical creature), her affectionate nature, and her raw intelligence, she had a success rate that made sure her welcome never wore out.

Thursday, Chantelle and Whitey got home from her obstetrician appointment at about four-thirty, and both looked a little stunned.

"Uh, the doctor sort of upped my due date a little," Chantelle said after sitting down next to Whitey. "It _was_ February the third, or thereabouts. But she's decided she was wrong, and I musta been wrong about the when of conception— which I ain't!— and that I'm actually more like eight months along.

"I'm now due on or about the first of December."

"The doctor checked Chantelle and Jocelyn over very thoroughly," Whitey said. "And they are both 'as fine as you could ask for.' So I'm operating on the theory that the Slayer power is affecting Jocelyn's growth in a positive way."

"Lemme take a look," Willow said, and drew a sigil of some sort in the air. She looked at Chantelle, then specifically at her swollen belly— and broke into a wide, happy smile. "Wow— honey, that is the healthiest baby ever, maybe! And Mommy isn't far behind. No bad here!"

"Sweet," Chantelle said, smiling and rubbing her belly lightly.

Friday… well, I got a surprise. When Sunrise and I got home from school, Thomas Dunlap and Lydia Heller pulled into the drive right behind me, and Mr. Dunlap got out of his Jag with a backpack that he slung over one arm. They followed me in, and Whitey was waiting for them in the living room.

"Ah, excellent," Whitey said, as he, Ballard and Xander stood up. "We bought the stuff we need today— had to go to Washington to find it, but we got it. And the guy guessed what we were playing as soon as we told him we were playing a superhero game and only needed ten-siders. Go figure."

(Washington, Illinois, he meant— about thirty miles from Normal by road.)

Rose, who'd been kissing me and Sunrise hello, looked around at Whitey and said, "You bought ten-siders? What for? I have tons, you could have borrowed from me."

"I probably should have thought of that," Whitey said. "We're going to try role-playing, some of us. Thomas is going to run a game."

"With just ten-siders?" Rose said. "What system?"

"It's called Blood of Heroes," Mr. Dunlap said. "Used to be the DC Heroes RPG, but they let the licensing go. Super heroes, not fantasy."

"Uh… got room for one more?" Rose asked, looking hopeful.

"I only have four so far," Mr. Dunlap said. "I can handle up to eight, with a super hero game— at least, with this system, I can handle eight. With something more complex, like Champions or GURPS Supers, I'd have to scale it back… but with this I can handle eight."

"I'm in!" Rose said immediately. "Thanks, Mr. Dunlap."

"Elaine, would you like to try?" Mr. Dunlap asked.

"Well, since it's super heroes, sure," I said. "If it was D and D, I think I'd run away, though. Had enough of that for a while."

"Dawn?" he asked.

"Anything the boyfriend does, I'll at least try," Sunrise said.

"Can I try?" Willow asked from the living room. "I'm with Elaine— no to fantasy settings, but super heroes? Could be fun."

(That told me that Lydia was one of the original four Mr. Dunlap had mentioned— Willow was seriously attracted to her, and I'd bet money she wouldn't have tried it, if not for that.)

"And that's eight," Mr. Dunlap said. "The plan is to build characters before supper, play after. Shall we get started?"

A couple of hours later, I'd built myself a telepath with the ability to attack minds directly, send and receive thoughts, probe for specific information, fling stuff around telekinetically, fly via telekinesis, and use the teke as a force field. Rose made a shape-shifter, human and animal forms open to her, as well as being able to grow and shrink. Sunrise… she gave Rose and I giggles. She made an energy-based heroine, able to project and control heat and light, and used Sunrise for a codename! How neat is that?

We listened to Thomas (first name use granted during character creation, with a warning to Rose not to slip at school) talk about the world he'd designed, let him go over our characters, then broke for supper. At seven we started actually playing— and we went 'til midnight. It was a blast! I'd never tried role-playing before, and it was just plain fun!

Xander, to his surprise, ended up in charge of the team, and he did a great job— led us through a couple of nasty fights, and his own insight, filtered through his chemical-powered hero (who could use accelerated and retarded chemical reactions for an interesting variety of powers) never steered us wrong.

At the end of the game, Buffy (who'd sat and listened, after asking permission), grinned and said, "Okay, Transmutat— time to help this damsel in distress get to bed."

"You don't seem distressed," Xander said, in his 'character voice' that he used for Transmutat. "Your leg and arm are healed… what is the nature of your distress, please?"

"I'm in desperate need of adult snuggling," Buffy said, grinning.

"Can't have that!" Xander-Transmutat said. Then he let his voice go back to normal, and said, "Thomas, thanks— this is a kick. Now, good night, all."

"Next Friday, Thomas?" Whitey asked.

"That's the Halloween dance, so two Fridays from now," Thomas said, and grinned. "But yes, I'll run most Fridays. First, I'm having a blast myself. Second… you feed me, and you've got a houseful of people who are better cooks than me."

"Well, not all of us are that way," I said. I raised my hand a little, said, "Non-cook, here. And there are horror stories about Sunrise and cooking."

"Hey!" Sunrise said, and gave me a dirty look. "I can't help it if you people don't count peanut butter and salami sandwiches as cooking!"

"Dawn, I don't think a _dragon_ would count that as cooking," Whitey said.

"You people have no taste," Sunrise said, sniffing dismissively. "Come on, Ballard."

Everyone went to bed— but Rose and I were accidentally privy to one more bit of news-worthy interaction that night.

The weather hadn't turned cold yet, so we went out on her balcony to stand and look at the moon for a few minutes, and to give Glitter a little time to stretch her wings. We watched Glitter take off, sparkling in the moon-and-starlight, then stood there and waited for her to come back, me behind Rose, my arms around her. After a moment, we heard voices from below.

"Uh, Lydia?" Willow called softly, and we glanced down to see Lydia pause halfway to her car, then come back to meet Willow a little ways out from the porch. "Hi. I, uh, wanted to ask you… well, you like sword fighting and stuff, and… the Normal Theater, they're doing a double feature tomorrow night, the 1940 Tyrone Power version of the Mark of Zorro and the Banderas the Mask of Zorro. Lots of nifty swordfights. Would you… well, you want to go see them? With me, I mean."

"That… sounds fun," Lydia admitted, just a little hesitantly. "Like a lot of fun, even. Should I pick you up, or meet you, or…?"

"I could pick you up," Willow said. "I mean, you'd have to tell me where you live and stuff, but honest, I'm not a stalker or anything. I'm psychosis-free. I did ask you, so I should pick you up."

"Okay, that's… reasonable," Lydia said. "Here, I'll write the address down."

She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Willow. "What time?"

"Well, I… was sort of hoping we could maybe have dinner, first?" Willow said. "The movies start at seven-thirty, so… maybe six? Or is that too early? Or do you not want to have dinner, we could—"

"It's a ways to the Normal from my house," Lydia said gently— and shyly. "Or to any restaurant worth eating in. Why not five-thirty?"

"Uh, yeah," Willow said, sounding relieved. "Okay, five-thirty. Um, Italian good for you?"

"I could eat pasta on the worst day of my life and walk away with it no longer the worst day," Lydia said. "Italian is better than okay.

"Willow… I'm about to risk making a complete ass out of myself."

"Uh, you don't have to—" Wil started.

"No, I think I do," Lydia said. "But… if you were thinking of this as just a couple of people who are starting to like each other going to grab a bite and see a couple of cool movies, I'm going to feel… very much like an idiot, I think.

"If you were thinking of it more as a date… less like an idiot, because that's kind of how I'm thinking of it."

"Oh! Well, no idiots here," Willow said, the happiness in her voice plain as day.

"Good, then," Lydia said. "But… Willow, I've never dated a woman. Or— well, I'm a virgin to women, mostly. Oh, I got into some petting with this utterly gorgeous French girl— a swimmer, I found out later— in Atlanta in '96, but that… spontaneous. In the locker room after I won my Bronze. She didn't even speak English, and my French is limited to please and thank you— oh, and 'shit,' you always learn to say shit in every language you can at the Olympics, it's a tradition— so it hardly counts as a romance."

"Well, I… I think I'm _really_ flattered," Willow said. "I mean… no, never mind think. I'm really flattered."

"So am I," Lydia said. "I know it hasn't been that long since you lost your girlfriend, and if you're bouncing back enough to want to date now, well… you must be very strong. Strong person interested in me… flattering.

"But I may need to go slow. I… I like you. I'm attracted to you, which takes some getting used to. I admire you. But… slow? Please?"

"As slow as you need," Willow said. "I've been there, Lydia. And I was lucky enough that she understood about slow. So… slow, not a problem."

"Okay," Lydia said. "Um, dress up or casual tomorrow?"

"Well… kind of in the middle?" Wil suggested. "I'm gonna wear a dress, but I practically never don't wear a dress anymore. So… casually dressy?"

"That works," Lydia said. "So… well, goodnight, Willow."

Before Wil could even answer, Lydia hugged her. Willow hugged back, said goodnight, and watched as Lydia turned and went to her car. Willow stayed where she was, watching until Lydia's car was out of sight, then threw both hands in the air, did a little victory dance, said, "Yes!"— and turned to go inside.

"Neat," I said softly, and squeezed Rose.

"Neater than neat," Rose agreed. "Surprising— I was pretty sure Lydia was straight— but neat as all get out."

We stayed another five minutes until Glitter came flapping back, then went inside and to bed.

Saturday went quietly— except that Willow was happy-nervous most of the day. She finally admitted to having a date when she said she wouldn't be here for supper, and Buffy managed to get even with Xander a little bit— for all of us.

"I have a date," Willow admitted, blushing but smiling.

"Date?" Xander said, and blinked in surprise. "Did I miss something? Date? With who?"

"Oh, my god, Xander missed something for once!" Buffy said. "Xander missed something! Get me a calendar, I have to mark this day in red."

"Okay, Miss Smarty-pants, who's her date with, then?" Xander said.

"Lydia, obviously," Buffy said. "Duh, Xander."

"Lydia?" Xander said, and blinked. He looked at Willow, who blushed a little darker, but nodded in confirmation. "But… Lydia? Two-swords Lydia? Pain-in-the-dragon's-ass Lydia?"

"Sometimes known as _'the-only-Lydia-we-know Lydia,'_ yes," Buffy said. "Come on, Xander— Willow's been about panting since she first laid eyes on Lydia, and Lydia… she's noticing the hotness of our Willow, if a bit more slowly." She looked at Willow and said "Probably didn't know she likes women before now?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Willow said. "But she seems… well, pretty sure she does, now. I mean— she says she wants to go slow, but I don't mind slow. Uh… Rose, you aren't mad, are you? I know you had a thing for her."

"Don't be a dope," Rose said, grinning. "Willow, I have three women in my life already— four if we count the occasional dose of Chantelle, which I do count— so I'd be a pretty greedy little snot if I begrudged you some happiness. I hope you and Lydia are happy— I love her, still, just not so lustfully. I love you, too, same way. So… no minding here."

"Okay, well… good," Wil said. "Thank you. I love you, too. Is it too early to get dressed for my date, you think?"

"It's not even one, yet," I said, pretending to know nothing about it. "Unless it's an afternoon thing? Yeah, probably too early."

"We're going to see a pair of Zorro interpretations tonight," Willow said. "And dinner. I'm supposed to pick her up at five-thirty."

"Much too early," Buffy said, standing up and taking Willow by the hand. "Come on, you. Time to distract you. And I think this calls for drastic measures. Xander? Find your DVDs of Tron and the Last Starfighter.

"Come on, Willow. Time to geek out and stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying, though!" Wil protested, even as Buffy dragged her off. "Really not!"

"Which explains why you want to get ready for your date four hours early," Xander said, heading after them. "Young lady, you're lucky we don't hit you with the Little Mermaid."

Rose and I giggled, watched them go, and went off to get a little afternoon delight.

Willow's date must have gone well. We looked up the movies on the Internet Movie Database, and they had a combined run-time of less than four hours, meaning Willow should, by all reasonable lights, have been home by twelve-thirty, allowing for coffee or ice cream afterwards, one at the latest.

She wasn't home yet when we went to bed at two.

Then add in that Willow was unusually chipper, even for Willow— despite some circles under her eyes— at breakfast the next morning, and we figured it must have been a really sweet date.

"What time did you get home, young lady?" Sunrise asked archly when Willow practically danced into the kitchen.

"Oh, around three, three-thirty," Willow said absently. "We had so much fun! The movies were great, and we got coffee afterwards, then we went to that little park you guys took us to on Chantelle's birthday, and we just… talked. Until almost three, we sat in swings and talked. Then I took her home and then I came home."

"Did you get a goodnight kiss?" Buffy asked, waggling her eyebrows. "Come on, Wil, inquiring minds want to know!"

"A lady never tells," Willow said in lofty tones. Then she grinned a wicked grin and said, "But oh _boy,_ can she kiss!"

We all cracked up.

After breakfast, Whitey directed cleanup detail, and we got the place spotless for the return of Giles and Kelly. (Not like this was a lot of work— but we vacuumed and dusted and picked up the few things that were lying around anyway.)

The good weather held, so Xander, Whitey and Sh'rin collaborated on an outdoor-cooked welcome home dinner for them, and by the time they got home at five o'clock (having been picked up by Willow), the smell of slow-cooking ribs was heavy in the air.

Rose hit them with a double-hug as soon as they were out of the car, grabbing both before switching first to Giles, then to Kelly, but with Kelly getting a longer hug to make up for going second. Then she let Laurie hug them, then me, then Linnea and the rest, before introducing them to Glitter, who charmed the socks right off of Kelly in about zero-point-zero-five seconds, and Giles in about a second and a half. By the time Rose, Linnea and I had grabbed their bags and started inside, Glitter was nestled in Kelly's arms happily, and had her tail draped up on Giles's shoulder as they walked in the house.

While waiting for dinner to finish cooking, we talked about the things that had happened since they left, and both were appreciatively on the edge of their seats through most of the tale. When Buffy told about the Djinn's offer to bring back Rose's father in exchange for its life, Rose's steadfast refusal to consider the offer and her reasons why, Kelly got up (handing Glitter to Giles), pulled Rose into one of those super-Mom hugs, and said softly, "You did it right, Rose— and you called it right. Your father is proud of you— I know it, because I am. And _more_ proud of you for having the wisdom to refuse that offer."

She then pulled Rose back to sit next to her, sandwiched between her and Giles (who put an arm around Rose's shoulder, expressing his own pride in her in his own way).

We finished the tale that Rose insisted on calling "a Night in D&D High," and Giles and Kelly both made the appropriate noises at the appropriate times— groans at Lydia's joke after beating a zombie to (permanent) death with a trashcan, laughter at Lydia stabbing the dragon in the ass, gasps at Sara's insane bravery, worried noises at Buffy being knocked out, proud exclamations at Sunrise's creative use of a protective circle spell, more worried noises at Rose being knocked out, and vast approval at Whitey's inspired solution to the problem.

"Kelly, I think we can go back to Britain, if you like," Giles said when the story was over. "This lot seems to have things well in hand."

"Oh, I think we'll stay," Kelly said. "Rose has this terrible habit of getting in trouble if I'm not around to talk sense to her."

"Hmm, yes," Giles said. "I suppose the same could be said of Buffy…."

"So, anything else happen that we should know about?" Kelly asked.

"Well, a little," Rose said. "Thomas— sorry, Mr. Dunlap— is running a super hero game here on Friday nights, and a bunch of us are playing. Oh, and Willow's dating Lydia— Miss Heller."

"Well, that's good," Kelly said. "Anything else?"

Then came the surprise that, at the involved party's request, we'd saved for her to reveal herself.

"Well, one thing," Nancy said. "More reason to love that little dragon in your lap, Kelly."

"Like I need more reason than her saving Rose's life, and Sh'rin's," Mom said. "And being far too cute for words, of course.

"So what else did Glitter do?"

"I think Nancy's talking about what Glitter did for me," Delia said, standing up and moving to stand in front of Kelly and Giles, even as Rose got up and moved over to sit by Laurie and me. Glitter flapped over to Delia's arms, and snuggled in for a hug as Delia continued. "She… she saw me hurting, and saw how I couldn't… couldn't see a way through the hurt. So… she showed me a away _around_ it. And Diane… she's helping me get through it.

"Would you guys mind if I called you two and Nancy my parents?"

That got hugs and tears and cries of delighted surprise, and Glitter praised, and Diane praised, and the evening went pretty much perfectly from there.


	61. Chapter 61

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 61

**_Just a bit of information, here: National Novel Writing Month, normally held in November, is having some summer events, and I'm participating. Should I get so wrapped up in my work on Camp NaNoWriMo that I forget to post a part for a day or more? Don't be afraid to PM me and remind me to post, I'll be grateful, not upset! (Don't worry, getting distracted won't mean I don't work on this, the story is done, I'm just posting only one part a day.)_**

_Rose:_

Man, it felt good having Mom and Dad home! They did bring souvenirs— they handed them out after dinner, and mine… extra-special, because I'm a sentimental slob.

Mine was big— very big. Willow, on seeing me ready to open it, said, "Oh, good— now I can see what the heck we had to stop and pick up!"

I looked at Mom, asking for an explanation of my souvenir from Ireland being picked up in Bloomington-Normal with a raised eyebrow, and she smiled.

"It's a blown up picture, Rose— it was easier to send it here to be blown up than to try and get it aboard the plane," Mom explained.

"Okay, that makes sense," I agreed, and tore off the wrapping paper.

It was a nicely framed six-foot wide, four-foot high photo of this _gorgeous_ little stone farmhouse, a fenced-in corral nearby, a barn in the background, and a stand of trees to one side. The greens were the kind you only see in Ireland and pictures of Ireland, deep and true.

In a tree just inside the edge of the little patch of trees, I could just see a tree-house built on some forking branches— and my heart jumped.

"Mom… is that…?" I tried to ask.

"Aye, an' that's the house where yer father lived the first ten years of his life, my Emerald Rose," Mom said, her Irish accent better than ever. "Five miles outside of the village of Clane, in County Kildare. An' that's the tree-house he built, I know— for I asked the current owners, and they said it had been there when they bought it from your auld Grandpa Killian."

Slayer senses are handy things, because I was able to find Mom to hug her— despite being blinded by happy tears.

"Best. Souvenir. Ever!" I said while hugging her.

"Best hug Rupert, too, Rose," Mom said, still all Irish. "For it was his idea to send that home, have it blown up an' framed for you."

I hugged Dad super-tight, and he hugged back just as hard— hard to believe I lucked out so hugely in the male-parent department twice, you know?

"You guys are spoiling me rotten," I said against Dad's chest. "But I don't mind, really."

"You continue to make us proud," Dad said. "Therefore I think indulging you is hardly spoiling you, Rose."

"Thanks, Dad," I said. I let him go, wiped my eyes, and turned back to stare at that picture again. After a moment, I said, "Xander—"

"Before you go to bed," he said, anticipating my request. "Where do you want it, Rose?"

"Foot of my bed," I said. I grinned so big it hurt, and said, "First thing I see when I sit up, last thing before I lie down."

Xander had it hung right where I wanted it before I went up to my room.

It was the last thing I saw before I laid down, pulled Glitter up to rest on my stomach, and went to sleep— and I dreamed that night of playing in my Daddy's childhood home.

That week was nice and quiet— but school sure was different.

Suddenly, I was popular. Everyone knew me, people went out of their way to thank me.

During sixth period on Monday, they had everyone gather in the cafeteria— it was pretty crowded— and they held a memorial service for poor Wendy Farmer, the girl who'd been killed by the orcs the Monday this all started— and I got a shock that, while pleasant, was also sad.

First off, I saw my whole family there. All of them! Everyone who lived at Scooby Mansion, sitting back behind the podium, even Elaine and Sunrise, who should have been in Dance class at Winston. And Sifu Archer!

Second, the media was there, a lot of them— cameras, microphones, the whole nine yards.

Principal Garrett spoke first, then handed the mike over to Mrs. Trenton, who taught math and had been Wendy Farmer's favorite teacher— and judging from her emotional state, the reverse was probably true.

Then Principal Garrett took the mike back, and he said, "I think everyone here knows that this tragedy, as awful as it was, could have been infinitely worse… if not for the courage, skill and quick thinking of one student. A former 'problem student,' who has, this year, been no sort of problem. Quite the reverse, in fact.

"Rose Erin Killian, on Monday last, responded to the screams of her fellow students and, on seeing that Wendy Farmer had been killed, and that the creature which had killed Wendy was threatening other students… Rose acted. She fought the creature, despite the fact that it was armed with a heavy sword, and she was unarmed. She fought it, and she fought the five that followed it, that tried to attack and kill her— and she won.

"Rose Killian ended a threat to this school that could have ended in the death or injury of many more of her fellow students, and she did so at significant personal risk. She did so using skills taught her by Sifu Camden Archer of the Tiger and Leopard School of Kung Fu—" Sifu stood up and bowed. "— and our own Lydia Heller, who taught Rose to fence.

"Such a risk must be recognized— and it will be.

"So I have asked her family here to witness… our small effort at thanking her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased welcome Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich, who has something to add."

Holy shit! The _Governor!_

Governor Blagojevich stepped out of the doors behind the little impromptu stage that had been built near the entrance to the faculty dining room, and took the stage, shaking the Principal's hand and turning to face us— and locking his eyes on mine.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Gov. Blagojevich said, "I find myself torn by being here. I know that those of you who knew and cared for Wendy Farmer are sad, angry and upset— I am, as well, though I know I can't feel these things as deeply as you who knew her do.

"Yet at the same time, I am… hopeful. Hopeful and proud."

The crowd murmured, and he let it die down before continuing.

"Since the massacre at Columbine High School in 1999," Gov. Blagojevich said, "there have been far too many incidents of violence and death in our schools. Heritage High School in Conyers, Georgia. Buell Elementary School in Mount Morris Township, Michigan. Santana High School in Santee, California. Granite Hills High School in El Cajon, California. Rocori High School Cold Spring, Minnesota.

"Thanks to the efforts of Rose Erin Killian, Bloomington High School, while a site of violence, is not a site of _mass_ violence against its students.

"Rose Killian, would you come up here, please?"

I worked my way through the crowd, finding it easy, as people made way for me. Once I was on the platform, Gov. Blagojevich shook my hand firmly, gave me a smile that was either real or the best fake I've ever seen (his _eyes_ smiled— and I've never met anyone who could fake that), and gently turned me to face the crowd.

"Rose Killian… I can't know what went through your mind that day," Gov. Blagojevich said. "I can't even begin to guess, I don't think.

"But I know that whatever it was, it led you to do the right thing, the hard thing— and that, in a world where violence is far too often directed against the innocent, it is wonderful to see anyone, especially a young person, direct skills of violence towards the defense of the innocent.

"So it is with great pleasure and great pride that I award you this—" He handed me a framed and fancy certificate that someone behind him handed to him. "— the Governor's Award, given for bravery and unique service to the people of this community.

"Thank you, Rose— for fighting so hard to keep your fellow students safe… thank you!"

He started clapping then— and everyone joined him. _Everyone,_ even my old enemy Kurt Belden!

When the applause died down, I turned to Gov. Blagojevich and I said, "Thank you, sir," and bowed. Then I turned again, and I bowed to Sifu Archer, who stood and bowed back.

I turned back to my fellow students, and I did the only thing I knew to do— I bowed to them, too.

The applause that rose up again slammed into me, through me— and I knew it had all been worth it. The scared, the doubt, the hurt, the bruises, the broken arm— all of it.

Then, above the applause, I heard a Viking roar, a huge, powerful sound that should never have been able to come from the scrawny, undersized body that produced it, as my buddy Brian Keller once again let loose with the four words that he seemed to shout more often than any others.

"_WAY TO GO, ROSE!"_

Then Principal Garrett was shaking my hand, and Mr. Dunlap, and Miss Heller threw propriety to the winds, and she hugged me, and Sifu was there to hug me when she let go— and I was leaking tears, proud-happy tears.

Then I heard something else— and the tears doubled.

_That's my girl,_ said a voice that I heard with my heart, not my ears. _That's my Emerald Rose— and never have I been so proud of you as I am right now_.

I saw him. Just for a few seconds, I saw him— and from Mom's face, and her own sudden tears, I knew that she heard him too, and saw my Daddy standing behind the Governor, wearing his fireman's dress uniform, standing straight and proud— and smiling at me.

_You've done well, my one,_ Daddy said. _You've done your mother and I proud, and he who stands in my place— and never think that I resent him. Rupert Giles is a good man, and that you and your mother love him so pleases me._

_But that ye would keep my name, Rose… that makes me more proud than I know how to tell ye_.

Then he was gone, and my family was rushing the stage, and Mom was hugging me, crushing me in a hug, and the Governor… he was chuckling, liking that everyone was making such a fuss over me. Nifty guy, him.

The Principal dismissed everyone then, and told people that the buses were ready and waiting, and they could go now, a few minutes early.

People swarmed the stage. All my teachers came up to shake my hand or hug me, and all the students I was at all friendly with. Coach Phelps even came up and shook my hand, said, "If you'd told me last May that I'd be proud to be able to say that you were one of my students, I'd have laughed in your face, Rose— but I am proud. Thank you."

Then _Belden_— Kurt Belden, who'd been the bane of my existence the first two years I'd attended BHS— came up and offered me his hand.

"I owe you an apology," he said as I shook his hand. "And I promise— you'll never hear me say… that name you hate, not ever again."

"Apology accepted," I said. "For the other… thanks."

He nodded, and went to catch his bus. After that… we were never friends, but we were never enemies, either. Fair trade-off.

Eventually, the Governor shook my hand again, said, "Thank you, Miss Killian. I hope that you never have to do anything like that again— but I'm glad to know that if you have to… you will."

Then he left, and my family took me home— where Mom made Grandma Riley's chicken for supper, while I let Elaine, Sunrise, Sh'rin and Chantelle take me upstairs and make love to me until I could barely see for the shakiness of post-orgasmic bliss.

When we came down for supper, Lydia and Thomas were there, too, and things were pretty much perfect. After supper, I went outside after Mom and Dad, found them sitting on a couch on the back patio and sat down between them at their invitation.

"You saw him, didn't you?" I said to Mom. "And heard him?"

"We both saw and heard your father," Dad said softly. "I for one, am quite proud that he finds me an acceptable substitute for him now that he's moved on to the next stage of existence."

"You should be," I said, and pressed against him for a moment. "I'm proud that I've made him proud… and that I've made both of you proud.

"But next time I'm gonna get put on the spot like that, could somebody please warn me?"

"No," Mom said. "Sorry, honey, but some surprises you just… don't spoil."

"Quite right," Dad said. "We thought you deserved a pleasant surprise, Rose, after all that's happened this last week."

I couldn't argue with that, so I just sat there with them for a little bit, then went inside and sat with Elaine, Glitter draped across both of our laps, basking in the quiet and the peace.

Halloween… what a day that was!

(No, _relax_— I mean that in a good way. If a little strange.)

I had my costume ready. It wasn't terribly complex. See, I've always been a fan of the X-Men, and I had a bunch of Daddy's old issues, including some that featured the character Kitty Pryde (AKA Shadowcat) in what I always thought was her coolest costume ever. And it turned out to be pretty easy to duplicate— I managed it with saved allowance and a little sewing from Mom for the mask.

Light blue tights with a medium blue leotard over them. Medium blue boots. A medium blue vinyl jacket, waist-length, and gloves the same shade. A long, medium blue scarf tied as a sash around my waist. A medium blue, Mom-sewn pullover mask that left my hair free. Spray-on-wash-off brown hair dye— and I was done, since I couldn't put Glitter on my shoulder and have her pretend to be Kitty's pet space-dragon, Lockheed, at least not at school.

But before I got ready, about ten minutes after Elaine, Sunrise and I got home (accompanied by Kimber, who was getting ready here, and would be picked up by Brian here), there came a knock at the door, and I went to get it. Standing there in the door were a great big, muscular blond guy with a ready, easy smile, and a tall, sexy brunette with cheekbones you could shave with.

"May I help you?" I asked.

"I hope so," the guy said. "I'm looking for Buffy Summers."

"You found the right place," I said. I got no bad vibe from them, so I stepped aside and said, "Come on in, I'll find her. It's a madhouse— Halloween party coming, I warn you, so please ignore the strangely dressed people."

I led them into the temporarily empty living room, and went to the intercom, pressed the all-call that sounded in every room, and said, "Buffy, there are a couple of people here to see you— living room, please."

A moment later, Buffy, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, came skipping down the stairs, Xander on her heels. She saw the couple that was waiting, now standing up, and she smiled, called, "Riley Finn! And Sam! Hey!"

She trotted over, hugged the guy, then, after a split second of hesitation, hugged the woman. She said, "You guys remember Xander, I'm sure. And this… Rose Killian, Slayer, allow me to introduce Riley Finn and his wife, Samantha, government-sponsored supernatural hunters. Riley, Sam, Rose, despite her size, is the best-trained Slayer in the house, except possibly me. She's my second in command in the field, and occasionally team leader."

"A pleasure, Miss Killian," Riley said, shaking my hand, gripping firmly and treating me like an adult.

"Rose, please," I said, shaking his hand, then his wife's.

"And I'm Riley," he said.

"I like you already," I said, grinning. "That's my Mom's maiden name."

He laughed and nodded.

"I'm Sam, please," his wife said. She grinned at me, and said, "Second in command in the field— having seen the sort of things Buffy faces and can do, you must be something else. But hey— dynamite comes in small packages, right?"

"Betcha," I said, grinning. "But I can't take all the credit— I've had good teachers."

"Riley, what brings you here?" Buffy said, motioning them to sit down. "And can you stay for the Halloween party we're having tonight?"

"No, we can't stay, but thanks," Riley said. "This is kind of… well, we aren't here, we were _never_ here— and I have the carefully falsified GPS records to prove it."

"Oh, boy," Buffy said. "Okay, what's the sitch? Does the government think I blew up Sunnydale on purpose or something?"

"No, they know better," Riley said. "But… well, they may suspect you of… something. Something that could get you in trouble."

"Better tell me," Buffy said with a sigh.

"I'm going to," Riley said. "But… I sort of need to preface this with some deniability, Buffy.

"I'm going to mention a couple of things to you, and I need you to very much _not_ confirm or deny anything, Buffy. Sam and I… we need to be able to honestly say 'I don't know,' if anyone asks us certain potentially embarrassing questions. So please… don't say yes, don't say no… just let me say my piece, and we'll need to move on. We can maybe come back in a couple of weeks for a more social visit, I hope— it's good to see you, and…." He looked pointedly at her hand, laced comfortably in Xander's. "It's better to see you happy, and with a guy I can only approve of. I'd like time to hang out, to get to know your new friends."

Xander grinned and puffed up a little, and I realized how much he liked and respected Riley— which pushed me even further down that path than the man's easygoing attitude, and the way he seemed to be here to warn us of something. Then he told us more, and I liked him a _bunch_ for what he was doing.

"Sam and I are on our way to Maine," Riley said. "We're going to see a witch there, one who's very, very good at tracking spells. See, we've been assigned to find a dangerous individual— or so we're told. According to the official information, this individual, an experimental super-soldier identified only as 'Six,' may have fled in this direction when he escaped the government facility where he was created."

I went very, very cold. Vincent! Riley was talking about Vincent!

"This super-soldier, he's accused of killing an orderly at the facility, one Danny Hopkins," Riley went on. "In addition, he's charged with killing another super-soldier, identified as 'Thirteen.' Sam and I are going to see if this witch can find Six via magic. We have hair, skin and blood samples from Six, and they are unique enough that losing them and replacing them with false samples is a thing we can't allow to happen— we'd get in trouble, big time.

"But Sam and I agree— we don't think that Six killed Danny Hopkins. An online journal kept by Hopkins, located by my wife, the hacker of extreme talent, indicated that Hopkins and Six were friends… and that Hopkins was trying to help Six.

"We think that Thirteen killed Hopkins, and Six killed Thirteen in retaliation. In fact, we're pretty sure of it. So sure that we'd like Six to have a chance at a real life. So… we're going to have a mechanical breakdown on our way to Maine— we're being allowed to drive as a replacement for some owed leave time— and make sure that Six, if he can be found by others, can maybe be shielded from detection by… I don't know, a witch powerful enough to locate and activate every potential Slayer on the planet?

"Anyway, that's our mission. We'd best get on with it, and back on the route we're supposed to be on."

"I see," Buffy said. "Well, speaking hypothetically, of course, why would you think that the super-soldier— this 'Six'— might be here?"

"Well, that's one of those odd things," Riley said. "See, the people who created these super-soldiers? Not real big on doing anything but the job they're on. The military guys, all they want is to get Six back."

"But they aren't being terribly intelligent about it," Sam said. "Or at all imaginative. So… well, they never looked online for anything that might lead them to him. So they never found the journal that Danny Hopkins kept, never knew that he'd deliberately and with the intent of teaching Six that being different didn't have to be a curse, had Six watch virtually every episode ever made of an old TV show called Beauty and the Beast, and that Six loved it, virtually fixated on it. And they never checked any records for any obvious names relating to that show, names like, oh, 'Jacob Maxwell,' or 'Joseph Burch'— or 'Vincent Chandler.' "

"Since they never looked for those names," Riley said, "then they never found anyone named Vincent Chandler on the payroll of the Giles Academy for Young Ladies, hired and paid by Rupert Giles. Since some hacker-lady destroyed all electronic traces of Danny Hopkins online journal… well, they're never likely to find these things if they _do_ look for them.

"Still, if the guy were to want to stay free and not be harassed, he'd be advised to get a witch with some serious zap behind her to help him cover his tracks."

"Wow," Buffy said, smiling and squeezing both their hands. "That's some wacky story. How long do you suppose it will be before you fail to find this guy and are reassigned?"

"Oh, not long," Riley said. "START— the government's newest version of the former Initiative, stands for 'Supernatural Threat Active Response Teams'— will probably drop it if they can't find the guy through this witch we're headed to see."

"Will there be leave time between assignments?" Xander asked.

"Oh, there will be," Riley said. "We're both owed about sixty days. We intend to take it all at once, spend some holidays with our families."

"And maybe a little while with some friends?" Buffy suggested. "Old friends who'd be glad to have you around for a while, and maybe some new friends who would give you some serious 'wow' moments?"

"That might be nice," Riley agreed, and gave Buffy a grin. "But, seriously Buffy— after you and Sunnydale, I'm not so easy to hit with the 'wow' anymore."

I laughed aloud at that, looked at Buffy, and got a confirming grin. I whistled, a rising-falling four note sequence that was the closest I could come to saying Glitter's name in her own language. A moment or two later, she flapped into the room, flew over and landed on my shoulder as neat as you please.

"What the heck…?" Riley said, while his wife smiled and laughed.

"This is my best friend, Glitter," I said by way of introduction. "She's a pseudo dragon from another dimension where life is pretty much a long Dungeons and Dragons game.

"Glitter, this is Riley Finn and his wife, Samantha. They're old friends of Buffy and the Scooby Gang."

Glitter hopped off of my shoulder, glided over to land in Sam's lap. Sam immediately started stroking Glitter, which got her purring. She shoved her head under Riley's hand, and he stroked her for a moment, eyes wide, grin wider. After a moment he looked up at me.

"Wow!" he said— and laughed.

They took off a few minutes later, promising to come back as soon as they could— and Buffy went to get Willow and see about protecting Vincent from being magically tracked.

Neat people, the Finns.


	62. Chapter 62

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 62

_Elaine:_

Rose's Halloween dance turned out to be a blast. And Brian and Kimber… they won the "Best Couple" part of the costume contest for a reason!

Kimber was a wolf— gray body stocking, gray-and-black face makeup, wolf-ear headband and a tie-on wolf tail, with wolf-paw gloves and boots— so we were figuring that Brian would be, too— all romantic and sappy, since wolves mate for life. Sweet, right?

Well, we were wrong— and it wasn't sappy, it was freaking hilarious!

Brian arrived to pick up Kimber at about six-thirty, and the first I knew of it was when Xander, who'd gone to answer the door, started whooping laughter so loud it made Glitter cover her ears. Kimber grinned, went off to the door, and came back with Brian on her arm— and we _all_ started howling with laughter!

Brian— eleven inches shorter than Kimber, pale, and slender to the point of skinny, remember— had on black loafers, white ruffled socks, a long blond wig, a little pink dress, and short red cape with a hood!

The Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood— gender swapped!

I laughed until I cried. Most of us did. _Giles_ laughed himself weak, for heaven's sake!

"Oh, my god!" Buffy gasped, being the first of us to recover her voice. "Oh, Kimber— hang on to this one! A man with that much sense of humor, and the kind of self-confidence it takes to be Little Red Riding Hood to your Big Bad Wolf… priceless!"

"Even better," Kimber said, grinning… well, _wolfishly_. "It was his idea!"

That sent us all into helpless gales of laughter again— and Giles and Kelly got pictures of them and us before we left. Rose was Shadowcat of the X-Men, and I had opted to match her in theme, and with Kelly's help I had made a decent Elektra costume, more from the comics than the Daredevil movie. A bit more modest than the comics version, sure, but it had to be if I was going to get into a high school dance.

Giles and Kelly hugged us goodbye, Giles reassured us one more time that not much supernatural actually came out on Halloween, and we went to the Bone Student Center at Illinois State University and the dance.

That dance… well, lots of fun. And there were other cool costumes, one being Lydia Heller's. With her tight, athletic body, great figure, her height and that long, thick, wavy, blond hair… she pulled off the Supergirl costume beautifully!

Principal Garrett looked very good as Mal Reynolds from Firefly (and earned cool points in my book for loving that show), and Thomas Dunlap made a very convincing wizard, with his deep red hooded robe, crystal-topped staff, and deep, soft voice.

But undeniably, Kimber and Brian were the big hit of the night. Like I said, they won the "Best Couple" award, and they deserved it!

Rose and I won awards, too— though mine made me blush. Rose got "Best Comic Book Costume" (there were category awards for that and for Best TV, Movie and Video Game Costumes), and I… I won Sexiest Costume.

We danced, we drank punch, we talked to some of Rose's friends— the ones she'd called friends all along, not what she called "she's-famous-now-friends"— and we had a great time. At ten, we went home to the party there, and saw some very cool costumes, and had still more fun. Lydia and Thomas followed us home, and that just made things more fun.

Costumes… well, I'm going to save the funniest two for last, but let me say that, if the two home-people in riotously funny costumes had gone to Rose's dance, Kimber and Brian would have had a run for their prize!

Giles and Kelly were Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson— Kelly even had a stick-on walrus mustache and an old doctor's bag. Xander was a pirate ("Hey, it was either that or Nick Fury," he said), and Buffy an eighteenth century British naval officer. Willow… yowza! I've always known Wil was sexy, but the costume made her absolutely luscious! She had on a Jean-Grey-as-Phoenix costume, the green-and-gold bodysuit from the character's early days in the comics, and she'd had her hair styled to give it wave (normally, it was very straight). Lydia and her took one look at each other— and both growled.

Nancy came as a gypsy, looked good wearing the outfit. Vincent… how appropriate that he came as Captain America! And Vivian, she had on this very sexy cat costume— also appropriate! Sunrise, Sh'rin and Ballard were the Three Musketeers. Sara had come as Spider-girl, from the Marvel Comics MC2 line, Laurie had used a similar dye to that Rose had used to make her own hair brown, and was a very convincing Hermione Granger from Harry Potter.

Brianne, playing off of her ability to know where things were despite being blind, had come as a Jedi Knight, and gotten Whitey to make her a light saber handle to fit over the top end of her cane.

The dorm-girls… Abelena had managed a good Trinity look, from the Matrix, Elise had opted to come as a sexy devil, Jenna Darius made a very convincing werewolf, Helena Parris had borrowed a page from Xander's book and put on a fake hook over the stump of her left arm to aid in her pirate costume. Tracy Bronson, the redhead who was dating Abelena, made a very convincing Queen Elizabeth. Delia… she had on a nifty little dragon costume, colored as close as could be matched to the same color as Glitter's scales. Chelsea Yoder stole a little chunk of my heart by coming as a ballerina.

Then came the one that made me ashamed. I didn't recognize her, and I felt like a real bitch for it.

There was this slender girl, brown haired and pretty damned sexy, talking to Nancy. She had on a gangster's moll outfit, or maybe a feminized gangster would be a better description. Fedora, shirt, tie, suit jacket, a bright orange toy machine gun… and a miniskirt and high heels. Gorgeous legs, small waist, nice breasts, and a face that had just enough sharpness to it to make her look dangerously sexy. Then I realized who it was, and I started feeling awful.

Felicia Schwartz. She'd been maybe sixty pounds overweight when she'd come here, and she'd lost all that extra weight, added tone to her muscles, and shaped up beautifully.

I'd never noticed. I'd still thought she was fat _that morning,_ for god's sake! She'd come to us fat, lost all that weight… and I never noticed!

I felt as shallow as a birdbath.

"Don't," said a voice in my ear, and I turned to see Willow standing there.

"Don't beat yourself up," she said. "Believe me, we're all feeling pretty awful. But Giles… he noticed. And Nancy. But it's their job to notice.

"You may be a Slayer, I may be a witch— but we're still only human, and humans see what they expect to see.

"Besides— you haven't noticed the costumes that could give Kimber and Brian a run for their money, yet."

Willow gently turned me around— and I busted out laughing.

Whitey and Chantelle were freaking hilarious, maybe more so than Brian and Kimber.

Whitey had on pointed elf ears, and he'd let his light blond hair grow out since he'd come here, now wore it in a ponytail. So put him in tight brown leather pants, a green tunic, a quiver full of arrows, and hand him a wooden bow, and he made a decent Legolas, right out of the Lord of the Rings.

Chantelle… god, I'm laughing now, years later, trying to type this!

Chantelle had on loose brown leather pants, a brown leather vest that covered her belly, with a brown tunic underneath the vest. Then she had on a long, frizzy, red wig… and a big helmet. She carried a big play axe… and she had on a fake red beard and mustache.

She was Gimli to Whitey's Legolas— and I fell to the floor I laughed so hard!

That night is precious to me, still. Sweet fun, good friends… and more laughing than I've ever done in a single night.

Willow and Lydia danced a lot. Rose and I danced a lot— with each other and with our Three Musketeers, even with Gimli and Legolas. And there were silly party games, and Giles, as Master of the School, gave out a prize for best costume, gave Vincent in his Captain America costume a fifty dollar gift card to Barnes and Nobles. (I have to admit, Vincent looked awesome— the only other person who could have carried it off was maybe Buffy's friend Riley, whom I hadn't met, then.)

Wonderful night.

And the next night, I decided to leave the Winston Academy behind pretty much forever. I sort of got my wish, too— but only sort of. It all worked out in the end— for all of us.

So… the Winston Halloween dance was supposed to start at seven, and go until eleven. Since we were helping, we all showed up early, and in costume. My principal, Mr. Jackson, was there with several of my teachers, most notably Tandy Sorenson, my Dance teacher, and Mrs. Anders, the world's coolest English teacher, and her husband. Mrs. Anders and her husband came as Laurel and Hardy, and looked good. Miss Sorenson and her boyfriend, a Criminal Justice professor from ISU, came as Christine Daaé and the Phantom from the Phantom of the Opera, and she was stunning, him handsome. Mr. Jackson had gone for Dumbledore, from Harry Potter, which looked okay on him— he was skinny enough.

He seemed a little taken aback when we all got out in costume, but it was easier than bringing it all with us and putting it on afterwards. But he did get a laugh out of Whitey and Chantelle, and he _roared_ laughter at Kimber and Brian.

Things got a little tense about the middle of the dance, when Giles stopped to talk to Mr. Jackson for the first time, and found him staring venomously across the floor at where Sunrise, Sh'rin and Ballard were slow dancing in a tight hug. I was close by, sitting with Rose, heard their conversation— and Rose, bless her temperamental little heart, horned in on it.

"Everything seems to be going well, I'd say," Giles said, not noticing the look Mr. Jackson was shooting at our Three Musketeers. "Very calm, and the deejay isn't even causing my eardrums to rupture."

"Mr. Giles, do you condone… alternative relationships at your school?" Mr. Jackson asked, sounding irritated.

Giles followed his gaze, and saw Sunrise, Ballard and Sh'rin.

"I condone any steady, healthy, loving relationships," Giles said, his voice a little chilly. "It is a bit to get used to, yes— but they are happy, and they are well-adjusted."

"I've seen some of your other girls dancing together," Mr. Jackson said, ignoring Giles. "More than one couple. And… well, I was under the impression that Dawn Summers was in a relationship with Elaine Marshall. Yet here she is with these… other two people, in a plainly romantic dance. Elaine, wherever she is, has been hanging all over that girl in the blue costume— the one who stopped those monsters at Bloomington High, I believe."

"Do you have a problem with alternative relationships, Mr. Jackson?" Giles asked, his voice becoming a sort of deliberately false reasonable. "I wouldn't have thought so— Elaine seems quite content here, and has never spoken of any… hostility."

"She's an orphan," Mr. Jackson said, waving a hand dismissively. "She's been beaten up emotionally. I'm sure she'll grow out of it."

"I see…. Mr. Jackson, I have never attempted to run the lives of my students, despite many of them being live-in students. I accept them for who they are, and who they wish to be." Giles gave Mr. Jackson a patently false smile, then continued in a gentle voice that hid a lot of hostility, "I suggest that you give that philosophy a chance."

"Give— it's unnatural!" Mr. Jackson burst out. "God intended for relationships to be man and woman, one on one!"

"Ah, and God told you this himself, did he?" Giles said. He shook his head. "I see no use in continuing this conversation, Mr. Jackson."

"No, wait, I do!" Rose said, standing up from the shadowy corner where we'd been sitting.

"Who— oh. You." Mr. Jackson shook his head. "You know, there's a lot to be admired about you, young lady— but you need to figure out that god meant for men and women to love each other, not two women."

"Well, god neglected to consult me," Rose said. "And I'm kind of an independent thinker, me— you know, I think for myself, rather than let a bunch of words in a book that's never been accurately translated tell me how to live my life!"

"Rose, I think—" Giles started.

"No," Rose said. "Dad, I'm sorry, and if you think I need punished for this, fine— but I'm going to have my say!"

"Young lady, the word of God does _not_ get 'translated wrongly,' " Mr. Jackson said in tones that brooked no argument.

He didn't know Rose— or he wouldn't even have tried it. My Rose will argue with anyone, about anything she feels strongly about.

"Really?" Rose said. "Then how do you explain the fact that there's tons of evidence— look it up, do a little research, it's a great habit to get into!— that the word 'witch' has _nothing to do_ with a person who does magic!"

"Now that's just silly," Mr. Jackson said. "What do you think it means?"

"In the original, the word 'witch' means 'one who murders by poison!' " Rose said. "Look it up! It's out there, in scholarly papers written by men of the Christian faith!

"So everyone ever condemned as a witch? Killed falsely. For reasons that have nothing to do with what the word means!

"If that's how your god operates, well… he can stay the hell out of my life!"

"That's a terrible attitude," Mr. Jackson said. He shook his head. "That way lies damnation, Miss Killian."

"No," Rose said. "I don't believe that. I don't believe that any god who professes to love his creation would damn us for loving one another— no matter who we love, or how we express it!

"Besides, if there is a god, he made me this way! And don't go giving me the 'you choose to be a lesbian' argument. If god truly was opposed to lesbians, then why do we exist at all? The choice argument fails when you stop to consider that _god chose to make us this way!"_

"Do you regularly let your daughter speak to adults this way?" Mr. Jackson asked Giles, giving him a dirty look.

"Not regularly, no," Giles said, his voice icy calm. "I only allow it when she is absolutely right."

"I see," Mr. Jackson said. He glared at Giles, gave Rose a look that could have started metal smoking, and said, "I see no point in continuing this conversation."

He walked off, and Rose sighed, looked at Giles, and said, "I'm sorry, Dad. I can't… he pushed all my buttons. If you want, I'll go home. I can catch the bus right out front."

"No, Rose," Giles said. "You won't be punished— because you were right.

"Besides, if he'd kept it up much longer, I'm quite afraid I would have punched him."

Rose looked surprised— then smiled, and said, "Thank you."

"Quite," Giles said. "Now, I think I'll find your mother."

He wandered off— and things stayed… well, normal enough, for a while.

Then, about ten, Mr. Tate, the boys gym and health teacher, saw Chantelle with her beard off, so she could drink some punch. He asked her how old she was. Not even considering that it could cause a problem, Chantelle told him that she was sixteen. He walked away— and a couple of minutes later, the deejay stopped a song, didn't start another one, and handed his mike over to Principal Jackson.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Principal Jackson said, "I'm sorry to interrupt… but there is a small… issue that needs attending.

"Would all students and faculty from the Giles Academy for Young… 'Ladies,' if that's the word— would you all be so kind as to vacate the premises?"

"Lawrence, what's going on?" asked Mrs. Anders, loud enough to be heard. "Why on Earth are you asking these people to leave— they're our guests!"

"I'm afraid that the faculty and staff of that… _school_ have habits to which I cannot, in good conscience, expose my students," Mr. Jackson said. "Let it go, Lillian."

"What are you talking about!" Miss Sorenson asked. "Lawrence, this is— it's insane!"

"Tandy, I will not have my students exposed to unnatural relationships!" Mr. Jackson said, getting loud enough to cause feedback. "Half of these people are homosexual or bisexual, and there are involvements with multiple partners— and that very pregnant young lady in the dwarf costume is sixteen years old, and married to a thirty year old man!"

"The key word being 'married,' Lawrence," said Mr. Kimmel, one of the history and social studies teachers. "If she's only sixteen, that means her parents— or other legal guardians— okayed the marriage, as it's not legal for a sixteen year old to get married in the United States without parental consent."

"I don't care about legality!" Mr. Jackson almost shouted. "This is about morality! I will not expose my students to dangerously immoral behaviors!"

"Then you'd better kick me out now!" Kimber yelled. "I'm bisexual— remember wanting to toss me out for being caught making love with a _girl,_ Mr. Jackson? Those desires aren't gone just because I'm in love with a guy!"

"As you wish!" Mr. Jackson said. "Have your parents call me Monday!"

"Kimber, no," Giles said. "This is unnecessary. We'll go."

"Like hell it's unnecessary!" Tandy Sorenson said. "Rupert, this is a load of crap! Lawrence is trying to impose _his_ morals on all of us here, and he can't _do_ that!"

"You're walking on dangerous ground, Miss Sorenson!" Mr. Jackson said into the mike.

"Then so am I!" Mrs. Anders shouted. "Lawrence this is— it's crazy! And it's _wrong!"_

And just that quick it became a shouting match. Nine out of fifteen teachers who were there came down on our side, but the other six were louder, more stubborn— and much more obnoxious.

Giles gathered us all together with his eyes, and we… well, we huddled together, all of us, wishing we could leave, but needing to stay and see how this came out.

After about five minutes of shouting, I saw Mrs. Anders whisper to Mr. Kimmel— and he looked at her sadly, then nodded, and whispered to Miss Lee, who taught higher maths. She looked at him, then nodded, and passed the whisper on to Miss Sorenson, and she passed it to Mr. Whistler, and so on… and then Mr. Jackson, who'd been ranting about the evils of any relationship besides heterosexual monogamy between legal adults for a couple of minutes, paused for breath— and Mrs. Anders cut him off.

"Lawrence, stop this!" Mrs. Anders said. "Stop it now— before it's too late!"

"Too late for what, Lillian?" Mr. Jackson said. "For saving these children from unhealthy influences?"

"No, Lawrence," Mrs. Anders said. "Before it's too late to save the Academy.

"If you don't stop this now, Lawrence, _right now,_ and apologize… you're going to lose a lot of teachers."

"Mrs. Anders, no!" I said.

"Yes, Elaine," she said. "This is… this is _sick._ I won't work for a man who'd say these things, who'd treat guests of our school like this."

"You won't walk out," Mr. Jackson scoffed. "And if you do, you'll go alone."

"Don't bet on it, you sanctimonious jerk!" Miss Sorenson said.

"Fine, then GO!" Mr. Jackson bellowed. "You think I can't replace you? You think I can't find another teacher in a single day?"

"I know you can't," Miss Sorenson said. "And I know damned well that you'll never find nine in a day. There's a shortage of teachers, Lawrence— you know that!"

"You won't go," Mr. Jackson said calmly. "You'll never find another job that pays this well.

"Now, this has gone on far too long! Mr. Giles, take your people and get out of my school!"

"Yes, all right," Giles said calmly. "Ladies and gentlemen… thank you for your kindness— and your open-mindedness.

"I believe that Miss Sorenson knows how to contact me— please do so, should you follow through on your resignation. But please… don't act rashly. Not for us. If you have families to take care of, do so, stay here."

"No way," Mrs. Anders said. "Mr. Giles, sometimes you have to do something rash just to keep your self respect.

"For me… this is just such a time."

Mrs. Anders led us out. All eight of the others who'd been against us being asked to leave came right on our heels.

That pretty much ended the Winston Academy, and my association with it.


	63. Chapter 63

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 63

_Rose:_

What a freaking mess.

Homophobic ASSHOLE! I wanted really badly to go back in there and just… clean his clock, you know? Give him the thumping that he deserved. I didn't— but only because Mom and Dad were right there, and Elaine was badly upset.

In the parking lot, Dad spoke to Mom briefly, then said, "Ladies and gentlemen… it is late, but not terribly so. We were wondering if you would all like to go and grab some coffee, perhaps a bite to eat? My treat, as you have all been kind to us above and beyond the call of duty.

"In fact, if you'd be willing to come to our house… the weather is remarkably warm, and we've plenty of room."

While it was being discussed, Mom sidled over to me, suggested that I call home and have Nancy ask Glitter to go on up to my room, in order to avoid her being seen by too many people. (Nancy, Diane, Linnea, Delia and Jenna had stayed home, the girls not yet being ready to socialize on a big scale.)

In the end, every teacher who'd walked out, and the dates of those five who'd come with dates, opted to come with us. Cool— there were some seriously good people at Elaine's school, and they outnumbered the jerkwater butt-monkeys.

We all went back to Scooby Mansion, and in the van, I called Nancy, and she promised to speak to Glitter. When we got home, my friend was nowhere in evidence, so I figured that she'd done as I asked, and resolved to give her a piece of peppered beef jerky— a treat to her like Grandma Riley's chicken was to me— as a thank you.

Nancy and the girls had retreated to the dorm house, the girls not being comfortable with large numbers of strangers yet, but Diane was waiting, and had made a huge urn of coffee, started water for tea, and generally done what prep she could. Mom leaned into finding snack foods as soon as we got home, with help from me and Chantelle (who could slice things with a speed and dexterity that had to be seen to be believed— she sliced up a one-pound stick each of summer sausage and pepperoni with a speed that no professional chef could have matched, and every slice looked exactly the thickness of all the others).

While we worked, Mom asked, very politely, if Chantelle and I could pass the word to the other students that the adults needed to talk, and about things that our guests might not be comfortable talking about in front of students. We agreed, and got the word spread quickly. After a few minutes of socializing, we all took off for our rooms.

Glitter was happy to see us, but, after a brief snuggle-hug with me, she went to Elaine and settled into her arms for the long haul. Elaine… she'd loved that school, and she still loved some of the teachers— but Mr. Jackson's attitude towards those who aren't hetero or monogamous had shocked and upset her.

But it's very hard to remain glum with a purring, snuggling miracle of magic in your arms, and soon, Elaine was smiling again. By the time we went to bed, she was happy enough, and she seemed to have gone from hurt to a little pissed— which, given that we Slayer's know how to use our piss-off, worked out fine. We opened the balcony doors a crack for Glitter, then made love, and wow— that was intense! Elaine's mild piss-off translated into extreme passion— no bad there!

She exhausted me in the best way possible, then we lay down to sleep, curled up spoon fashion. Just before sleep, Glitter came in, threw her weight against the balcony door to shut it, and climbed up to lay draped over my hip, her tail lying across Elaine's waist.

Dad spent almost all of Sunday in his study, and he was very plainly up to something. He barely came out at all, and he had a few visitors, including the lawyer he used here, and a second lawyer, recommended by the first. He made several transatlantic calls— I know, because several times I took him a cup of tea or a meal. (I volunteered— I liked doing it. I liked the idea of knowing at least a little of what was going on— not like that worked, all I heard was about transfers of funds, reinvestment of other funds, sale of this stock or that, etc.) He refused to talk about it, only saying that it was a hoped-for surprise.

Monday came, and Dad told Elaine and Sunrise to stay home, not to go to school— but that the situation wouldn't require them to miss out on their education for long. So they both stayed home, although Elaine drove me to school, and they sat in on classes at home.

Monday afternoon, I went to my kung fu classes, and when I told Sifu about the problem at Winston Saturday night, he was flabbergasted— he couldn't believe that Principal Jackson had been so stupid, mean and bigoted.

When I got home that night, things were pretty normal— except that Dad looked smug. All the teachers who'd left the Winston Academy with us showed up at the house after supper, and closeted themselves with Dad, Mom, Willow, Nancy, Xander, Buffy, Vincent, Ballard and Whitey in the study. No one would say a word— but Dad told all of us school-age kids that we were taking the next day off, as there would be a Giles Academy field trip, and he wanted us all to go with, even Elaine, Sunrise and I.

Mysterious much?

Oh, well. I didn't really mind. I had kept up my work and my grades, so… no big.

In the morning we filled both minivans and the SUV to capacity, and we drove… to the Winston Academy.

"What the hell?" Elaine muttered from beside me.

I had an idea, but I kept my mouth shut. He _couldn't_ have!

We parked around the corner from the main entrance, and Giles got out, gathered us all together, and said, "All right, everyone… I ask that you remain quiet for the initial portion of this expedition— including you former students of this school, and those of you who have been insulted by the f—by the principal here."

He _did!_ Holy shit! That "f—," that gave him away, to me at least. Hot damn!

I decided to let Dad have his moment, and just grinned to myself.

We waited a few moments, until the sound of a gate opening and closing came from around the corner. At that point, Dad raised a finger to his lips for quiet, and led us all, teachers and students, around the corner.

There, just in front of the gate, dressed in his Winston blazer, stood Mr. Jackson, just raising his wrist to check his watch. He heard us coming, looked up— and snarled, a low, hateful sound.

"Get out of here!" he said, waving his hands at us like we were a cloud of mosquitoes. "I've no time to deal with sinners like you today!"

"I'm rather afraid that you have no choice, Mr. Jackson," Dad said.

"Damn you, I said go!" Mr. Jackson said. "I'm waiting for the new owner of this school, and I won't have you disrupting my meeting him!"

"Your wait," Dad said, slowly and with immense relish, "is ended.

"_I_ am the new owner of this school, Mr. Jackson."

I grinned wider, while Elaine and the others gasped. I'd been right— Dad had given it away by almost saying "former principal," when he asked us to be quiet!

"You… no!" Mr. Jackson said. He went through several facial expressions in less than five seconds, none of them pleasant. "The owners would never— not to you!"

"Actually, they would," Giles said. "And they did. I am this school's new owner, and, effective immediately, its principal.

"And you, you bigoted ponce, are fired— effective immediately! Vincent, as the new Chief of Security for the Giles Academy for Education, would you please escort this… person to the principal's office, see that he collects his things, and escort him off the premises?"

"With pleasure," Vincent rumbled. "Please come with me, Mr. Jackson."

That's when Mrs. Anders and Miss Sorenson and all the other teachers that had left Saturday night came around the corner, and Jackson… lost it.

He tried to hit Dad— but Dad spars and trains _Slayers_. He simply blocked Jackson's half-assed punch, slapped him brutally across the face, and shoved him back.

"Swing at me or any of my staff or students again, Mr. Jackson, and I will see you in jail," Dad said. Then he smiled, and corrected himself. "Or, rather… I will see that you go to jail when you get out of the hospital."

I couldn't help it— I whooped laughter.

Dad looked at me, smiled, and said, "I shall accept that as a statement of approval, Rose, thank you. But please, dear… do remember that this is a school, and keep the noise to a minimum."

Elaine hit him in a hug that made his ribs creak, and Sunrise did the same right after.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the staff," Dad said as Vincent followed a bent and defeated Mr. Jackson into the administration offices, "you all know where you should be. If there is a substitute teacher present in your room, please assure them first that they will be paid in full for today, then send them round to the office— I suspect that I shall be losing other teachers from the staff, and those who sided with Mr. Jackson Saturday night, by dismissal or resignation. I may well have continued work for at least some of the substitutes."

"Dad," I said as the teachers went in, headed for their rooms, "you just rock!"

"Thank you," Dad said. "Now… do you think you might like to attend here next year? Your Senior year, I mean, not next calendar year? Especially since I intend to attempt to hire Lydia Heller away from Bloomington High School?"

"If you get Lydia, I'm here," I said. "If not… well, I love fencing, Dad. I can't really fence competitively, not anymore— it's not fair, I'm a slayer, no ordinary girl could take me— but I did say I'd play manager for the team, and help train them."

"I shall endeavor to obtain her services, then," Dad said. "So, would you care to accompany me on a walking tour of your new school, ladies?"

"Wait, you mean…?" Brianne said. "Giles, are we all going to go here?"

"Well, Rose wishes to finish out this year at BHS, I'm sure," Dad said. "Past that… yes, you'll all attend school here, except perhaps those who are not ready to face a crowd on a regular basis."

"Boys!" Bree said happily. "I'll be going to a school with boys!"

We laughed, and started the tour.

Then those of us who could helped— there were nine billion things to be done, it seemed like.

Mom and Dad went to the bank the school used with all the documents of title, changed who was authorized to write checks against the school accounts. Dawn got on the computer, found a sign company to change the signs. Vivian and Nancy wrote a draft of a letter to the parents of the students, informing them of the change and assuring them that tuition and standards of education would remain the same. Whitey, the newly hired Assistant Principal, dealt with those teachers who'd stayed with Jackson and now wanted to quit, and assigned some of the substitutes that had been here for those who'd left with us Saturday to cover the classes of those who quit that when Jackson was fired.

Xander gave the place the once-over with a contractor's eye, looking for things that needed repaired or changed. Vincent checked security measures, found them mostly nonexistent, started making notes. Ballard (newly named as boys' gym teacher) and Buffy (newly named as girls' gym teacher) inspected the gym and pool, Willow the computer labs and library— and the rest of us played errand girl, swapping off at the secretary's desk (she walked out when she found that Jackson had been fired), running messages, getting coffee, all the thousand little things that needed doing that we could.

I checked with Whitey, found out what permanent positions we'd need to fill, and Elaine wrote the newspaper ad while I posted them online. Brianne sat with Sunrise, rattling off a list of things we hadn't thought of that would need to be changed— stationery, as an example. Uniforms. The monogrammed pens that everyone always seem to steal. Business cards. All those things, and dozens more.

Xander came in with a list of needed repairs, was referred to Whitey. Dad and Mom came in, took over the details, listened to Xander, told him to make the arrangements— but later, after he'd had a chance to examine classrooms while they were empty. Vincent they set to looking for a security system for the school. Buffy came in with a list of gym equipment that needed replaced, and the news that the pool needed cleaned. Willow came in, suggested some computer upgrades and that she be allowed to set up the school's computer network "how it should be set up."

Dad handled it all. Mom helped, but Dad did most of it. He cut the last class of the day short by twenty minutes, called an assembly, where he gave a nice speech about how he'd bought the school, and that, while the name would be changing, the standards and the tuition would not. He introduced Mom as the Dean of Students, Whitey as Assistant Principal, and the others as well. He then told everyone that they needed to bring their blazers— all of them— in tomorrow, and that they'd get them back with the new school monogram in place on Friday, that the rest of the week would be "casual dress" while this was done.

Everyone was given a letter to take to their parents about the changes, told that those parents with email addresses registered with the school would receive electronic copies as well, and sent them home, all abuzz with the news.

The sign-painters were there and mostly done before we left. I won't try to describe the Giles Family Crest to you, because I don't speak coat-of-arms, but it looked impressive, and Dad did translate the motto beneath it from Latin to English for me.

"_Fiendas cras ab eruditio hodie,"_ Dad said, and smiled a little. "I came up with it when I decided to do this, Rose. It means, 'making tomorrow by teaching today.' "

"I like it," I said as we all walked around to where we'd left the vehicles. "And I suppose it wouldn't be safe to make that 'saving tomorrow by slaying today,' now would it?"

"Not especially, no," Dad said, laughing. "Appropriate, perhaps, but not especially safe."

"So," Elaine said as we got in the car, "truthfully, Giles… how many teaching certificates and school administration certificates did you create from nothing to make this work?"

"Not even one," Dad answered. He smiled at her a little in the rearview mirror, and added, "They were already done for the opening of the original school, Elaine."

We laughed our butts off most of the way home.

The school… it changed how some things were done. It had to— but it worked out. No more daytime martial arts classes instead of PE, for example— unless we count my morning kung fu classes. The dorm-girls, Laurie, Sara and Brianne were split up into their various classes. Jenna, after a long talk with Diane, then with Diane and Mom and Dad, decided to go to the new Giles Academy, with the understanding that if she felt upset or found herself getting angry without cause, she could leave class and come to the office (but the further understanding that if she did that too often, she'd be switched to homeschooling, like Linnea and Delia were going to do).

Vivian took over the education of Linnea and Delia completely, homeschooling them while everyone else was gone. She also proposed going to college the next year, starting in the Education program, so that she could do this on a regular basis. Vincent and the rest of us had been good for her— she was still shy, still likely to cringe at harsh words, but the cringing was lessened, and Diane agreed that Viv was ready to try college.

Past that… well, the girls were mostly delighted to be going to a normal school. They'd missed it, and that was, at least in part, why Dad bought the place (not so hard, it turned out— it had been ailing since the Mitsubishi plant outside of town laid off a lot of people) and taken it over.

The rest of why was simply that he hated to see a troll like Jackson in charge of the education of a bunch of kids. I couldn't fault him there!

There were a few problems— Brianne had to spend hours in the school after hours to get her confidence about moving around the place, they had to add some ramps for Elise, who didn't do so well with stairs— but mostly they were minor.

One that almost wasn't minor, might not have stayed minor if Elaine and some of the others hadn't stepped on it, and stepped on it hard, was Chantelle. A lot of the other girls and some of the guys gave her hell at first, both for being pregnant and being a southerner. That got squelched pretty fast. Elaine, Sara, and Abelena did most of the stomping, but Sara, being so tiny and yet so deadly, was the most effective. Girls (and especially guys!) that she beat into submission were so humiliated by being beat up by such a tiny little thing that they never repeated the offense that caused her to beat them in the first place, or talked about the beating.

Things settled down quickly, though— which was a good thing, because things outside of school started to heat up the next week, even while the weather went the other direction, very sharply.

I've often wondered if the cold and snow brought the ice demons, or if it was the other way around.

Either way, the timing almost sucked _really_ hard.


	64. Chapter 64

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 64

_Elaine:_

I did tell you that Halloween ended my association with the Winston Academy. I just didn't tell you that that was only because Giles bought it, made it the Giles Academy for Education.

I'm a shark, I know.

But, god! I love that man! The things he does for us, the lengths he goes to!

And you know… the "teachers" and "administrators" that he brought in may not have all had teaching and administration certificates that were entirely, um, legitimate, but… not one student or "real" teacher ever complained.

Buffy and Ballard fell into teaching gym like they were made for it. They kept the students having fun, which makes a huge difference, and they challenged them without pushing them, which may not make sense to you, but it's what they did. Willow's Computer Science classes were hugely popular, because she taught by the "hands on" method, and awarded good performance— like finishing a project early— by letting people go web surfing or play games.

Then Xander asked about adding a woodshop and a practical maintenance class the next semester, and Giles polled the students (not the parents, bless him!), found a strong interest, and told Xander to call a contractor about an addition to the buildings, so there would be room… and set about having Whitey get Xander's teaching accreditation forged.

Vincent made that building tight— if anything bad happened here, he'd be able to know about it fast. He didn't invade privacy, no cameras everywhere or anything— but every teacher had a "panic button" that they wore under their shirt or dress, and that could be set off by just squeezing it— and hey, grabbing your clothes when the bad goes down, not that odd, you know? We weren't going to have any Columbine repeats in that school, not with Vincent on the job.

Giles… as an administrator, he was world class. With Whitey to handle the things he didn't want to do or know how to do (and Whitey Penobscot is one of those all-around competent people), they ran a tight ship. Kelly handled discipline with a mother's touch, and did it well (big surprise).

Nancy taught English to the younger kids, giving Mrs. Anders more time to devote to us older kids, and letting her do things like Creative Writing classes that she'd not had time for before by taking over the freshman English classes as well.

Pretty much perfect.

Oh, we had some minor troubles with kids harassing Chantelle over her pregnant state and her southern origins— but we girls managed to put a halt to that without having to drag any adults into it. And if there were a few bruises over it, well… tough!

Wednesday through Friday just ruled. Friday, after most of us got home, we got a nice surprise. Buffy's ex-boyfriend-now-good-friend Riley and his wife called not long after we got home, said that they were free of obligations until early January, and asked if the invitation to stay a few days was still open, and were assured that it was.

I was in the room when Buffy took the call, and I heard her say, "What time will you be here, then…? Okay, cool— in time for supper, we eat a little late Monday, Wednesday and Friday to allow for Rose's kung fu classes. … No, don't be a twit— you're having supper with us! … No, you won't need to do that, either… no, Riley. We have a guest house out back, totally unoccupied. It's yours for the duration. Gives you and Sam some privacy, and still keeps you around for the fun stuff….

"Riley! That's not fun stuff, it's just… exciting stuff. We make our own fun. Movies, huge games of whatever— in fact, there's a role-playing session tonight, but don't worry, I don't play, so I'll be able to entertain you with tales of monster slayage….

"Riley, that's not— oh, I give up. Yes, I did just admit that there's fun to be had in Slaying— but that's not the sort of thing I meant when I said 'fun stuff,' really.

"Okay. See you about six. Drive carefully. See you guys soon."

She hung up, grinned and said, "We have company coming— I'd better tell Whitey to add some stuff to whatever he's cooking."

"Coolness," I said. "Is this the guy who warned us about covering for Vincent?"

"One and the same," Buffy agreed. "You'll like him— he's nifty."

I wasn't actually there when they got there— I'd gone to pick up Rose from kung fu class— but when we got back, I met the Finns, and liked them immediately. Both were just… relaxed. They knew about the supernatural stuff, so… no hiding anything.

We didn't get to talk long, since the weekly game— skipped last week for Halloween— started right after supper, and by the time we finished they'd gone to bed. Still, Riley made a good impression. When Rose and I came in, Glitter was sitting on his shoulder, listening while he talked about the way the government had written Vincent off as dead after the witch they'd gone to see had been unable to locate him.

"That's a very large relief, thank you, Riley," Vincent said. "Still… I think I will wear this—" He fingered the little leather bracelet on his left wrist that had protected him from location via spell, and nodded his thanks at Willow, who'd made it for him. "— for a time yet. Until it falls off from wear, probably. Why take foolish chances?"

"Good point," Riley said. "There are old soldiers and there are bold soldiers—"

"But there are very few old, bold soldiers," Vincent and Samantha finished with him.

The next morning, they were both up early, and they watched Rose's kung fu class, complimented her on her skills and her teaching— and Riley asked to spar her. She agreed, of course, and they had a really good time. He was better and faster than I'd have expected, and he caught Rose off guard a time or two, but she loved it.

Later, they came out while Ballard was working with me, Sunrise, Sh'rin and Kelly, and Sam immediately said, "Oh, Capoeira! God, this is fun to watch!"

"You've seen it?" Rose said, surprised.

"We met in South America," Sam said. "So yeah, we've seen it. Wow— he's pretty good. You know, I'll bet that Elaine learns to do some utterly amazing things— Slayer power and Capoeira? Could be scary-fun."

After the class was over, Riley asked to spar Ballard— and made no bones about the fact that Ballard handed him a serious stomping.

"Wow," Riley panted when it was over, "that is hell to counter! Sam? Remind me to talk to Graham about finding someone to teach us this when leave's over."

"Roger, wilco," Sam said. "I'll bet I learn it faster than you do. _I_ can dance!"

About that time, a cold, cold wind came up— it had been around fifty, which isn't bad for working out outside— and we all went in.

Half an hour later, it started snowing, and it seemed to be coming pretty hard. After watching it come down for a few and checking the weather channel, seeing that the unexpected storm was about to become an unexpected blizzard, Xander and Whitey made a grocery run. We weren't low on anything, really— but they were both paranoid enough to want to stock up on all sorts of things. Riley went with them, drove the Hummer H1 that he and Samantha had arrived in— a civilian model of the HMMWV "Hum V" army vehicle that had replaced the jeep. They loaded both vehicles down with groceries, and got back in an hour— through four inches of snow on the way back.

"I'm glad I bought a generator and installed it," Xander said as they came in, loaded down with groceries, and we Slayers went to help bring things in. "Giles thought I was being paranoid— but I'll bet we use it before this is over."

"Yeah, I'm an Iowa boy, so I know my snow," Riley said. "And this… it feels like serious snow."

Willow found herself terribly disappointed (NOT!) when Lydia came over not long after the guys got home from shopping Saturday afternoon, and then decided it wasn't safe to drive home. No one asked where she intended to sleep, but when Willow went to bed, she didn't go alone. (We later found out that they didn't make love, but that they did cuddle… and make out.)

That evening we all watched movies and sat around and talked. Sam and Riley loved the story of how we came to find Glitter, and were impressed that we managed to take out a dragon.

And _still_ it snowed. By midnight, we'd had fourteen inches of snow, and it wasn't showing any sign of slowing. Riley and Sam had to bundle up before walking the forty or so yards to the guest house, and Riley went first to "break trail"— there were some impressive drifts already.

Sunday morning… still snowing. Up to nineteen inches of snow. Drifts over Vincent's head at some points around the house. But we still had power!

That morning, there was a monstrous snowball fight, started by (you could probably guess) Rose, who lobbed a snowball at Xander when finished shoveling snow away from the dryer vent. This soon led to some twenty people lobbing snowballs at each other in mad abandon. With Chantelle not playing, Abelena and Jenna got the best of the fight, both having damned good throwing arms.

Around four in the afternoon (still snowing— twenty-five inches by then), I was sitting in the kitchen with Rose, Glitter, Riley, Sam, Xander, Buffy and Giles, all of us watching Kelly cook. Chantelle and Whitey came over from their house, and Whitey, ever-calm-always-steady Whitey, looked a little pale. He was almost carrying Chantelle as they came in the back door, would have been carrying her if not for the snow.

"Houston, we have a problem," Whitey said as soon as they were inside. "Chantelle's in labor!"

"Oh, my god," Kelly said. "Are you sure?"

"I thought it was false labor at first," Chantelle said, breathing hard. "But I'm sure— contractions are gettin' intense, here!"

"Damn, there's no way to get to the hospital, even with Riley's Hummer," Xander said. "Well, I guess—"

"Riley, get my bag," Samantha said, standing. "Giles, where are we doing this?"

"That's right!" Buffy said, smacking her forehead. "You're a doctor, I forgot!"

Riley threw on his coat and charged out the back door towards the guesthouse.

"OB isn't my specialty, but I know what to do," Sam said. "Now— where?"

"Guest room up— no, not upstairs," Giles said. "All right—"

"Upstairs is fine," Samantha said, kneeling next to Chantelle. "I'll bet we can find somebody to carry her up— not you, Whitey, you're half in shock."

"Vincent," Giles said, and hit the all call, called for Vincent to come to the kitchen. "All right, guest room on the third floor— there's a bathroom off of it. It used to be Chantelle's room, so it will be familiar to her."

Vincent came in, saw everyone gathered around Chantelle, took in Whitey's pale face and smiled hugely. "The baby is coming?" he asked.

"Oh, she's comin' all right," Chantelle said. "Little girl wants to see some snow, I think."

"Vincent, carry her upstairs," Sam said. "Don't hurry."

"I will be very careful," Vincent said, sounding solemn but looking delighted. He bent and scooped Chantelle up as though she weighed nothing at all, and said, "Arms around my neck, Chantelle. And here we go."

Sh'rin was in the living room, sitting between Laurie and Sunrise, lecturing on the sorts of plants that hibernated effectively in weather like this, but when she saw Vincent carrying Chantelle towards the stairs, she bounced to her feet.

"Is it your time?" she asked Chantelle.

"Sure is," Chantelle said. "Damn good thing Riley an' Sam are here— she's a doctor, an' ain't no way we're gettin' to a hospital, not today."

"Samantha, I know much of childbirth," Sh'rin said. "I am a healer, among other things— may I help?"

"Bet on it," Samantha said. "You're with us. And Whitey, and I think I want everyone else out of the room."

About that moment, the door to the library opened, and Delia came out, carrying Glitter— who promptly leapt from her arms and flew over to land on Vincent's shoulder as he started up the stairs. She burble-peeped happily, and nuzzled Chantelle's cheek. Chantelle giggled, and said "Sam, can Glitter stay, too? She makes me feel happy jus' bein' around."

"Happy mom is a healthy mom," Sam said philosophically. "She's welcome. But no belly-sitting today, Glitter."

Glitter looked around at Sam, gave her that open-the-mouth-a-little pseudo dragon grin.

"Sam!" Riley called from the entrance to the living room. "Catch."

He lobbed her doctor's kit to her, and she caught it neatly, kept going up the stairs.

"Okay, so, have you two had Lamaze classes?" Sam asked as they disappeared up the stairs.

"Yes, we completed them last week," Whitey said, sounding much more calm for knowing there was a doctor present. "Just in time, I guess."

The last sound we heard as they went up was Chantelle giggling at that— a good sign.

"Boy, Riley," Buffy said, "I'm glad you guys were here!"

"Me, too," Riley said, and grinned. "Sam's a good doctor, people— and she has done this before. While we were on our first date, a woman from the tribe whose village we were staying in went into labor, and Sam delivered her little boy just fine. I didn't even mind having our date shot down, not for that."

"Yeah, that's gotta be a good sign," Xander said. "Man… Giles, should we call someone? Like to see what to do about a birth certificate and stuff?"

"I can try Chantelle's obstetrician, yes," Giles said. "Excellent idea, Xander."

The doctor, hearing that Chantelle was in labor, said, "Good lord, that child's in a hurry, isn't she? Hell, both of those girls seem to be in a hurry!" loud enough that we all heard it.

She said that with Samantha being there, and being a doctor in good standing (Riley gave a thumbs up when asked), that a late-issue birth certificate wouldn't be a problem, and said to call her if Sam needed coaching, or once the delivery was done.

"No matter what time it is!" she added just before hanging up.

We got semi-regular reports from Willow, who contacted Sh'rin telepathically now and again, and assured us that everything was going fine.

About seven-thirty, Rose sat bolt upright, and broke into a delighted smile.

"She's here!" Rose said. "Glitter's showing me! The baby's here! Sam says that she's fine, and Chantelle's crying happy, and— and HOORAY!"

We cheered and we hugged each other and we kissed anyone we could reach, and we were still doing so when Sh'rin came down and said, "Obviously you know— but I would say it anyway, because it is wonderful!

"Jocelyn Kelly is well and healthy, and Chantelle came through fine. Whitey cannot get the smile off of his face, and… I am to get a tape measure and a meat scale."

So little Jocelyn Kelly Penobscot came into the world well and happy and healthy, and was weighed on a meat scale and measured with Xander's favorite tape measure (at his insistence). She was nineteen and a half inches long, and weighed seven pounds, nine ounces. Sam told us later that she'd never seen such a healthy baby in her life— and I found myself thanking the Powers That Be that night, even though I'm not religious.

Giles called Chantelle's doctor, gave her the news, and we all listened to her cheer.

Whitey came down about eight-thirty, sweaty, tired-looking— and grinning like a happy maniac. He told us that Chantelle and Jocelyn were asleep, and then passed out cigars, both real and bubblegum, to all and sundry, and showed us pictures he'd taken with a digital camera. Beautiful baby, and Chantelle looked so totally enraptured that she seemed to glow.

"Come on, Dad," Riley said, clapping Whitey on the shoulder. "Grab your coat. Normally, I don't smoke— but I'm gonna go out to the garage and smoke this one."

"Damn straight," Whitey said. "Anybody else?"

"I'm in," Xander said. "Buffy, I'll use mouthwash, I promise."

"Forgiven," Buffy said, smiling.

"I believe I could make an exception to my own no smoking rule, for this," Giles said. "Ballard? Vincent? Anyone?"

"I'll take a shot at it," Ballard said. "If I puke, you have to promise not to make fun of me, though."

"Deal," Whitey said.

"I'm afraid my heightened sense of smell forbids it," Vincent said. "But thank you."

"I'm in," Diane said. "Bubblegum is for sissies."

"Ditto," Sam said from the stairs. "I haven't had a cigar in ages— but I deserve to break training!"

So Whitey, Riley, Xander, Giles, Ballard, Diane and Sam went out to the garage and had their cigars, and the rest of us sat around and wondered when we'd be allowed to see Chantelle and the baby.

Then Buffy snapped her fingers and said, "Guys, work detail. Three volunteers to go out in this mess with me, please?"

Sunrise, Rose and I volunteered fastest, and we three and Buffy went out to Whitey and Chantelle's little house and got some things for them. Buffy and I carried in the crib they'd bought, while Sunrise and Rose grabbed the "go bags" they'd had ready for the trip to the hospital, their toothbrushes, some clothes, and as many boxes of diapers as we could carry. With Chantelle and the baby asleep, we put it all in the living room, hit the crib with a blow dryer to get the melted snow off of it. When the cigar smokers came in, Whitey saw the stuff, grinned and said, "Okay, who do I thank?"

He and Sam went back up, carrying everything but the crib, and they'd only been upstairs for five minutes or so when the lights went out.

"Oh, crap," Buffy said. "Sucky timing, much?"

"Would have been worse before Jocelyn was born," Sunrise said.

There came a groaning, chugging sound from the basement, and the lights came back on— but only in the living room, the dining room, the kitchen and the one bathroom off of the living room hall.

"That's my girl," Xander said. "Good generator."

"Good wiring," Buffy said, and kissed him. "Why not the whole house, Xander?"

"Would have taken a much bigger generator than we have room for," Xander said, "and a hell of a lot more fuel.

"Still, we've got fuel for a week of power. And Giles let me buy sleeping bags and air mattresses enough for all, so we can all sleep in the living and dining rooms. Since there's a fireplace in each… we should be okay."

"Good deal," Buffy said. She looked around, said, "Vincent? With your night vision, you'd be best for helping Chantelle and the others come down. Would you, please?"

Soon enough, we were all staring in hushed wonder at Jocelyn Kelly Penobscot as she lay sleeping in her crib, placed right by the couch where her Mommy rested. Chantelle, despite being sweaty and tired, looked more beautiful than she ever had in the time I'd known her— mostly due to the beatific smile that she wore.

We all sat quietly, talked in low voices, watched the baby sleep (Glitter perched on the crib railing and burble-whistled a little tune very softly, which was so cute it _hurt)_— then Riley's belt beeped at him.

"Oh for— I'm on _leave,_ people!" he said, and took his cell phone off of his belt. He flipped it open, said, "Graham, I'm on leave, and I'm snowbound— get somebody else."

He listened for a moment, then sat up suddenly and said, "What! Are you sure?"

We all turned to face him, and he hesitated, then said, "Graham, you know where I am— so I hope you won't mind that I'm putting you on speaker phone."

Riley pressed a button, held his phone out, and said, "Okay, repeat that, Graham."

"I know you're snowbound," Graham said, his voice pleasant, and tinged with a faint southern accent. "But our seers say that it's no natural weather system, Riley. You've got some ice demons in the area, and they're either causing the storm or maybe just making it worse— they aren't sure."

"Okay, do you have any idea where these creatures are?" Riley asked.

"Actually, only a hint," Graham said. "According to the seers, they're in the right hall. But they can't get the right hall of what building."

"Great," Riley said. "Anything else, Graham?"

"Couple things," Graham said. "I've got some pretty good data on these things— if you need it. Knowing where you are… do you really need it?"

Riley looked up, saw Giles running his finger down a page in a book he'd grabbed from the library, and said, "Let you know in a second."

Giles turned pages quickly, then turned the book to face Riley, showing him a page labeled "Nordic Ice Demons."

"No, we're good on info, Giles came through," Riley said, grinning.

"Imagine my surprise," Graham said, his voice dry. "Mr. Giles, if you ever decide to pursue a career in military service, I can get you a job in a heartbeat. Or if you'd rather roll in the dough, we can hire you as a civilian consultant."

"I think I shall pass, thank you," Giles said.

"Okay, then just one more thing," Graham said. "Another thing I don't understand, I'm afraid.

"According to the seers, this is the fault of Hecate's minion, though the minion didn't plan this specifically."

Willow drew in a long, hissing breath, and I knew. I knew that Hecate's minion was Amy.

"Got it," Riley said. "I think it helps, too, thanks, Graham."

"If you want back up, we'll do what we can," Graham said. "I can get men into Pontiac pretty easily, and they can get there the rest of the way on snowmobiles."

"I don't— no, wait, can I get a small team?" Riley said. "Not for demon destruction, Graham, but equipped to defend against demons? Specifically these, but a broad selection, too? One squad should do it."

"Okay, but… can I ask why?" Graham said.

"Well, with the group I'm staying with, I hardly need assistance with the demons themselves," Riley said. "In fact, they may not need Sam and I.

"But… we've got a new mother and a newborn to think about, Graham. I want them protected while we deal with this. And there are some young ladies who, while trained, aren't experienced yet. I want them covered."

"Roger that," Graham said. "Congrats to the new parents, then— and I'll have my team there to watch their backs in… two point five hours, maybe three if the weather gets worse."

"That's awful quick," Riley said. "Where are they, Graham?"

"We're at Naval Station Great Lakes in Chicago," Graham said. "I'm gonna lead this one myself, Riley— you know me and kids. Nothing will hurt your friends while you're gone."

"I hear you— and thanks, Graham," Riley said. "Call when you get close, we'll see if we can't set up something outside to guide you guys in."

"Ten-four," Graham said. "Graham out."

Riley hung up, let out a big sigh, and looked at Buffy.

"Graham… he got into the Initiative after some vampires killed his younger brothers and his little sister," Riley said. "There's no one alive who'll work harder to keep your younger people safe while we're out.

"So… what are your orders, Buffy?"


	65. Chapter 65

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 65

_Rose:_

Riley was rapidly becoming a favorite person. I mean— he gets guards for Chantelle and the younger girls, and then he hands his safety to Buffy like it's nothing! Hell of a guy!

Buffy nodded, said, "Dawn, is your cellular modem working? Can you get through to the net that way?"

"Should be able to," Sunrise said, getting up to go after her laptop. "Give me a couple— what am I looking for?"

"Anything that connects Normal or Bloomington with a 'right hall,' or anything like that," Buffy said. "You're the net girl— you figure out the right search."

"On it," Sunrise said, and left the room at a trot.

"Natives… anything?" Buffy asked.

I had been racking my brains, and had nothing. I shook my head, and so did all the other local types, even Mom.

"Then we hope Dawn can find something," Buffy said. "Willow, how are you gonna be on ice demons?"

"Well, if they're all logical and hate heat, I can definitely help," Wil said. "Giles?"

"They don't like it, and it does damage them rather well— but it doesn't qualify as an actual bane," Giles said. "No actual banes, unless we can get a priest or priestess of Sunna, the Norse goddess of the sun and spring."

"Fresh out of those," Xander said. "So… heat."

"And blunt weapons," Giles said. "They aren't nearly so bothered by edged weapons, as they have no actual blood to spill."

"Oh, sure, take away my favorite toys," I muttered. "Well, I'd better get my staff."

Sunrise came down, set up her laptop, and said a moment later, "Okay, I'm online. Net girl is me. Let's see what Google has to say…."

She typed for a moment, while Buffy looked around, then spoke. "Whitey and Chantelle are out, obviously," she said. Whitey opened his mouth, and Buffy shot him a glare as she continued. "That's not open for discussion, Whitey— you have a wife and a child to take care of, and the damned _weather_ could get us killed right now."

Whitey looked at the crib, at Jocelyn sleeping in it, Glitter sitting on the railing singing to her, and Chantelle reaching through the bars to stroke her baby's cheek, and said, "You're right— sorry, automatic reaction. But you're right."

"Understandable. You have to develop Dad reflexes— I'll give you a whole day to do that before I start yelling at you." Buffy considered again, said, "Graham didn't say how many of these things there are, so I'm betting he doesn't know. That means we want the numbers. So… Giles, you have a baby on the way, you're out. Kelly, pregnant, also out. Puts the Watcher Hat on Xander and Dawn. You're in. Sh'rin, you're our other Guardian, and senior, so you're in. Ballard, you're too useful as a fighter not to bring you. Same for Vincent."

"Buffy… I think I have it," Sunrise interrupted. "Google asked me if I meant 'Wright Hall plus Normal'— and added a 'w' at the front of Wright. W-right Hall is a classroom building on the Illinois State University campus."

"Get over to a weather site," Buffy said, "and see if you can get a center for the storm, and then see if you can't match it with that building, if there's a way to do that. Can you?"

"I'll give it a shot," Dawn said. "I might be able to do it."

"Let me know," Buffy said. She looked around at all of us, as even the younger girls had come in when the electricity bailed. "Okay… Willow, I need you. And I'm thinking that if I want you and no fight, I get Lydia, too. Lydia, can you use anything besides a sword effectively?"

"If there's a baseball bat in the house, I'm good," Lydia said. "I used to be a holy terror with one of those— and some skills never leave you."

Sara laughed and said, "I'm using mine— but we've got a couple of others in the house. Gotta love the simplicity of a bat!"

"Buffy, I have it," Sunrise said. "I can't narrow it down enough to determine if it's actually Wright Hall, but I _can_ say that the storm is centered over ISU— the main campus, where Wright Hall is."

"Okay, good job, Dawn. So… Slayers." Buffy looked around. "Girls, this is not a time to pull punches. Some of you are ready. Some of you aren't. I would appreciate it if you didn't argue with me on which way I decide regarding you."

None of the dorm-girls moved, or even seem to breathe.

"Rose, you're my second," Buffy said. "Elaine, you're in. Sara, Bree, Viv… you're all in. Bree, you and Viv are a team— I want you two back-to-back.

"Of the rest of you… Tracy, how long since you had a seizure?"

"Nineteen days, six hours and change," Tracy said.

"Whitey says you're sudden death with a mace and shield," Buffy said. "You're in.

"Abelena, you're with Tracy, watch her for clues on sound cues. Helena… do you have an arm for this?"

"Number five, I think," Helena said. "And I'll carry number six, just in case."

"You're in," Buffy said. "Elise, I'm sorry— I know you've got the stuff to take care of yourself, but this place… with the power down, no elevators. You'd be in danger if we have to run."

"So? Next time, then," Elise said. "Buffy, I can wait— I'm not gonna let my ego get in the way of doing something like this right."

"Good deal," Buffy said. "Jenna, Whitey says you've gotten scary with a ball and chain, even with two of them— which makes me worry about your sanity, but, hey— they're your kneecaps. You're in."

Jenna just nodded, didn't say anything.

"Felicia…." Buffy looked at our formerly fat girl, now sleek and sexy, and capable of moving so gracefully that she made me think of Elaine. "Honey, I've never in all my life seen anybody pick up a three-section staff and just… use it right, right from the first. You impressed me, you impressed Whitey, and you impressed _Giles_. You're in."

"Okay," Felicia said. She looked out the window, sighed, and said, "Figures. My first time out comes in weather when I wish I was still fat— just for the insulation!"

We all laughed at that, and I decided that if Felicia could joke about her former build, she was very all right in my book. (Also? A three-section staff is hell to use— that she just picked one up and understood it— wow!)

"Linnea, you aren't ready yet, you or Delia or Chelsea. I'm sorry, girls— but taking you would only put you in danger bigger than people as trained as you are can handle. But… it won't be forever."

They nodded, and looked glum— but accepted it.

"Samantha… after seeing you fight that Suvolte demon back in Sunnydale, I know that you've got the chops— but I want you here," Buffy said. "Chantelle and Jocelyn are fine, yes— but I'm not taking a chance with a newborn, and you're our only doctor."

"Understood," Samantha said.

"Riley… you're in," Buffy said, grinning at him. "But remember— if something happens to me, Rose is in charge."

"I sparred her, Buffy," Riley said. "And I heard the story of 'Dungeons and Dragons High'— I'm not going to argue with her."

"Okay then," Buffy said. "We can't do anything else until Graham and his people get here. Then… we walk this one, people. It's a little over a mile to the campus, so I want everyone bundled up like you're six and your mom's letting you go out to play.

"In the meantime, it's late. Go take a nap."

We laughed, and most of us did just that, using a foot-pump to blow up air mattresses, throwing sleeping bags (Xander really should have been a boy scout— he's always prepared!) on them, and trying to sleep a little. Mom, Giles and Whitey played fire-tenders, keeping them going in both rooms to keep us as warm as they could.

I fell asleep snuggled up to Elaine, with a thought-picture from Glitter of a from-above view of little Jocelyn sleeping peacefully in her crib running behind my eyes.

Mom and Dad woke us up at one, said Graham and his people were half an hour out— the weather had gotten worse, and slowed them down— and that we should grab weapons and cold-weather gear, get ready to go.

They had a plate of sandwiches ready, too, and trays of hot drinks. I munched my favorite sandwich as I trotted downstairs to grab a metal-capped staff from the armory, those being better than my plain old hardwood staff. I then went upstairs, shivered some as I dressed for a mixture of cold and violence. Long underwear, super-heavy socks, cargo pants, a heavy wool turtleneck and my trusty Doc Marten combat boots. Downstairs, I found that Willow had amplified a heavy flashlight beam into a semi-searchlight, and that eleven men on snowmobiles were just coming into the yard. I grabbed my ski pants and parka from the hall closet, added those to my ensemble while Graham Miller, Riley's friend and fellow member of START, was introducing his men and talking with Buffy about where to set up.

"Um, before we start… could I look at the baby?" Graham asked, blushing darkly as his men chuckled.

"Sure, come on," Buffy said, and led him past me into the living room.

He stopped and stared at Glitter for a second, until Buffy said, "No, it's okay— she's a friend, her name is Glitter. As I hear it, she helped with the delivery, even. She's telepathic, and she was able to redirect Chantelle's pain some."

(I hadn't known that— but I wasn't surprised. My girl Glitter was great at helping other people past pain, this was just an extension of that.)

Chantelle was sleeping, but had her hand through the crib bars, one finger resting lightly on the back of Jocelyn's hand, and Whitey was sitting at the end of the couch she lay on, dozing a little. Graham looked at the three of them— and smiled a smile that… well, it made me a little less sure I was a lesbian than I already was over Ballard. It was the kind of smile that you fall in love with.

"God, I love kids," Graham said softly. Then he shook himself, looked at Buffy, and said, "Thanks. Nice to know what I'm defending."

Glitter leaned over and nuzzled his hand, and he smiled wider, stroked her head lightly. "Aren't you a wonder? You'll stay on guard in here?"

Glitter burbled an unmistakable affirmative, and Graham said, "Good deal. We'll try to make sure nothing gets this far— but it's nice to know there's a second line of defense."

"Okay, your guys are here, and you're all ready," Buffy said. "We're going to get out of here, Graham. Thanks— for taking care of my family, I mean."

"That's the job, this time— stop the threat, not try to use it as a weapon," Graham said. "I like it a lot better this way.

"Hey— I have something you might want to use. Riley being the only one familiar with a snowmobile, he figured you guys would walk— this is not a night for untrained riders. I've got a safety line and harnesses with clips— might help you guys stay together."

"I'll take it, thanks," Buffy said. "Show Rose, here how to put them on, she'll pass it on. She's my second in command.

"Rose, this is Riley's friend and fellow START member, Graham Miller— he's a good guy to have around. Graham, this is Rose Killian, my second in command, and living proof that you can't judge a book by its cover. She looks harmless, but she can outfight everyone here but me— and she's catching up with me."

"I am officially impressed," Graham said, shaking my hand. "I've seen what Buffy can do— if you're catching up with her, I want you on my side."

"Thanks," I said. "But hey— you guys don't have super powers and you're fighting demons? No chickens in your outfit."

We grinned at each other, and he grabbed a bag of safety harnesses, showed me how to adjust and fasten them. Five minutes later, the bunch of us were ready, and I wrapped a scarf around my face, a long one that left only my eyes visible, and pulled on my gloves.

Vincent, for both his eyesight and his size (and thus ability to break trail through the snow) had point. Then came Buffy, Willow, Elaine, Lydia, Xander, Vivian and Bree as a pair, Dawn, Abelena and Tracy as a pair, Sh'rin, Felicia, Ballard, Sara, Jenna, Helena (who had on a prosthetic arm with a heavy steel ball on the end, made for her by Whitey), me and Riley riding drag. We'd been spaced out with three feet between us, except for Bree and Viv and Tracy and Abelena, both sets of whom were right together, and made a human chain a little over fifty feet long.

"Listen up!" Vincent called, his voice taking on a tone of command unlike any we'd ever heard from him. "Folks, this weather will kill you if it can— even Slayers are susceptible to death in weather like this, and even inside a town like we are. You will _not_ disconnect from this safety line unless we are all inside a building together— those in front do not disconnect until the last person in line is inside.

"We have approximately a mile and a half to go to reach our destination. I will choose the easiest path that I can— but watch out for each other! If the line drags, _stop_— someone has fallen or stopped, and may need help. It's hard to give help if people are still trying to move.

"Everyone be careful— and be aware of those nearest you, stay aware of them."

We all called an affirmative, and he opened the door and stepped out. Mom and Dad squeezed each of us on the shoulder as we went out, and said to be careful— and then we were out in the storm of the century— I hope!

By that time, it had snowed thirty-one inches— not good for us short people, that's over half my height of fifty-eight and a half inches, you know? Add in drifts, and I was damn glad of Vincent in front, and Riley behind. Hell, I was glad of everyone in front of me, and Riley behind.

I stepped away from the house, and the wind hit me, made me stagger a little. I got my balance, leaned into the wind, and started slogging it.

I couldn't see Helena, only three feet in front of me. With no power anywhere in town, and the wind-driven heavy snow, my universe consisted of about a foot of swirling white madness— then solid nothingness. It was very weird— and even more creepy than weird.

A mile and a half. Should have been a ten minute jog, or a leisurely stroll of forty-five minutes. No. No, it took us two hours to reach the wide pedestrian bridge that ran from the Bone Student Center and Milner Library commons area on the north side of College Avenue and the Schroeder-Hall-Felmley-Hall commons on the south side of College Avenue and the north end of the ISU quad. If Sunrise hadn't found a map of the campus, shown it to Vincent, we might never have known which of the fourteen buildings that fronted on the quad was Wright Hall. You couldn't see the signs naming the buildings when they were right in front of you— the snow had covered them completely.

Vincent led us to a single door on the north end of what I certainly _hoped_ was Wright Hall, produced a piece of slim, flexible metal, and used it to slip the lock. We all filed in, moved into a medium-small alcove, and Riley pulled the door shut behind us.

Just being out of the wind and snow was wonderful. It felt roasty-toasty warm in that alcove, even though it wasn't much warmer than freezing.

"Sound off by first name, down the line," Vincent said softly, and we did. When Riley had said his name, Vincent said, "All right— off the safety line, everyone, and lose your outer layers of cold weather gear. Pile them here, as neatly as you can."

We did as he said, and it was a relief to be able to move easily again.

"All right, we're in the right place," Buffy said, pointing at a plaque on the wall that said 'Wright Hall— 1940.' She took a deep breath, and said, "Willow, can I get an evil reading?"

"You betcha," Willow said, and started a short, simple spell. A moment later, she whistled softly and said, "Okay… badness. There are thirty-one readings in here, all the same type— and spread all through the building."

"Crap." Buffy sighed, pushed her hair back and said, "It never rains but it blizzards.

"Okay— here's the plan. Five story building, sort of— Giles would approve, it's got a basement, a ground floor, a first floor, a second floor and a third floor. First is, according to this map, where we are. We can't split that small, no five team split. So… three teams, one starting on three and working down, one starting in the basement and coming up, one staying here and cleaning up anything that runs this way.

"Rose, you're team leader for team two. Take Elaine, Jenna and Felicia for Slayers, plus… Dawn and Riley. Take this side of this floor, then start on the basement and work up.

"Abelena, Tracy, Helena, Ballard and Xander, you're with me, we take the south side of the building on this floor, then start on three and work down.

"Bree, you're in charge here on one. Vincent is your second, use what he knows to help you. That leaves you with Vivian, Sara, Sh'rin, Willow and Lydia. You guys stop anything that gets away from us from escaping. Willow, see if you can't find the source of the demons' blizzard-making spell and we'll shut it down when the place is clear.

"Any questions?"

No one said anything— and Buffy nodded. "Okay, team one, with me. Let's get this over with and go home— I want to snuggle into a sleeping bag with my honey and dream of the Bahamas ASAP."

"Aw, gee, Buff," Xander said softly. "Can't we dream about Hawaii for once? I'm tired of the Bahamas."

"Okay, so long as it's warm and not California, I'm agreeable," Buffy said. She looked around at all of us, said, "Good luck, and good hunting," and led her team off at a fast sneak towards the other end of the building, Bree's team following a little behind to look for a good central place to set up in.

I looked at my team, said, "Elaine, you're my second. Use Riley's know-how to help if it comes to that.

"Lets make snow-cones, people— and let's be careful."

_**Note to Readers: To make the story work better, I have taken certain small liberties with the naming of a certain building on the Illinois State University campus. Wright Hall is actually a dorm over in the area referred to as West Campus; I borrowed the name to put on what is actually Williams Hall, in order to make the location of the ice demons at least moderately challenging to find. Mea culpa! Should I have readers from the ISU student body or alumni, my apologies for any confusion.**_


	66. Chapter 66

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 66

_Elaine:_

_I_ was Rose's second! No, no, that's not supposed to happen! Riley, he should have been second in command, or Sunrise! Not me.

_Easy, now,_ said a voice in my head, a voice I knew and loved— my Mom! _Easy, my ballerina girl. Rose knows what she's doing. You're ready. Do you think Rose would have asked it of you if you weren't ready? She might be yours in bed, darling girl— oh, stop blushing, I'm a ghost, I know things— but out here, in the field… _she's_ in control, and she wouldn't hesitate to put someone else in the position if it made sense._

_Mom… you stuck around?_ I asked mentally, even as I took my place behind Riley at the very back of the group— an experienced Slayer on point (Rose) and on drag, it made sense. _Like Michael, you stuck around?_

_Yes, dear, _Mom answered. _I've never left. Oh, I know I haven't said anything, but that's because you weren't ready, honey. Now… you're far enough past the pain for me to talk to you without it doing more than making you a little sad_.

_And a lot happy!_ I said. _Did Daddy…?_

_He couldn't,_ Mom said. _Only one of us could stay— the Powers That Be have rules. Your father lost the coin toss, but he'll be waiting for me on the other side. We'll both be waiting for you, when that day comes. But that, darling daughter, will be a long time from now— or you will be in for a lecture like you never heard while you were alive!_

_Now— pay attention to your work, Elaine._

_Yes ma'am,_ I said— and did as I was told.

We were moving down halls, checking out classrooms and offices that had been left open. Closed doors, Rose had Sunrise check— she'd come far enough in her Guardian studies that she could sense demons at close range.

We made it most of the way to the central area of this main floor before Sunrise checked a closed door, shivered violently, and nodded at it. Rose sighed— cramped hall (this place was not conducive to big fights, at least not here). Narrow halls, classrooms filled with desks, small, cramped offices. This was an office. Rose thought for a moment, then hand-signaled us to get three on either side of the door, her at the front on one side, staff ready to thrust out, not swing, and Jenna at the front on my side, ready to lash out with a ball and chain. Then Rose reached out and turned the knob, threw the door open— and waited.

The demon leaped into the hall, facing Rose, and landed hissing. It looked like a skinny human carved from ice, with very long arms and legs— it had to crouch a little in the eight-foot-high hallway— with many claws on both hands and feet. Its face looked… elongated, stretched, and seemed made entirely of sharp, faceted edges.

Then the face looked shocked as Rose slammed the butt of her metal-capped staff forward into the thing's gut, sending chips of ice spraying, even as Jenna swung her ball and chain overhand, sent the studded ball cracking into the back of the thing's head. It sort of lurched sideways, staggering and stunned— and even as Rose struck at its face, Jenna swung her second weapon at the thing's leg, breaking the limb at the knee. It fell, blinded by virtue of most of its face having been shattered, and Riley dropped to his knees and smashed the head with a single overhand blow of the big mace that he carried. The ice demon spasmed, twitched— and shattered into millions of tiny ice chips.

"What do you know?" Rose said. "I was right— we're making snow cones!

"Nice work, Jenna, Riley. Everyone take note— the limbs break pretty easily, and a Slayer-powered shot to the face can blind them."

We went on to the center of the building, found Bree's team standing guard near the two sets of stairs while Willow examined the big magical pattern drawn across the lobby floor. The pattern wasn't exactly the usual magical circle— it was more like a big snowflake. Willow was frowning, floating around it, being careful not to pass over it.

"Can you defuse it?" Rose asked.

"I can," Willow said. "But it will be a _lot_ easier after all the ice demons are dead."

"We're working on it," Rose assured her.

We went to the stairs and down to the basement. One look at the maze of pipes, boilers and furnaces, and Rose groaned.

"I hear you," Riley said. "It's going to be messy."

"Why couldn't they have picked a nice, modern building?" Rose groused. "Well… let's get started. Same marching order."

Three minutes of stealthy creeping later, we came to a corner made by a great big furnace, and Rose motioned Felicia up, whispered to her. Felicia helped her do that same look-around-the-corner trick she'd done the day we met Glitter at the high school, Rose falling backward, looking, then getting pulled in by Felicia's hands on her ankles.

"I gotta remember that," Riley muttered as Rose stood up and motioned us all back.

"Five of them out there," Rose said. "Dancing, chanting— I'm thinking they may be trying a second spell. We need to stop it. Full bore charge, fight in pairs. Me and Sunrise, Elaine and Jenna, Felicia and Riley— experienced fighter in each group that way, and same for Slayers.

"Elaine, take Jenna to the other corner of that thing, charge when Sunrise and I do. Riley, wait two seconds after the four of us charge, then follow."

"Yes ma'am," Riley said, and pulled Felicia back with him a little bit as Jenna and I went back to the other corner formed by the massive furnace and waited for Rose and Sunrise to charge.

We didn't wait long— ten seconds after we got into place, Rose and Sunrise stepped around the corner of the furnace and charged the ice demons, getting pretty close before they were seen. By that time, Jenna and I were already moving, too. Just as Jenna engaged the first one (the girl can _run_), Riley and Felicia came charging in behind Rose and Sunrise.

Rose engaged the first one with a jumping, spinning staff-strike, broke its arm clear off, landed and started kicking it around. Sunrise laid into one with her staff, and started knocking ice chips off of it with startling speed.

Jenna broke one's leg off at the hip with her first blow, started working on its head immediately. I thrust my staff into one's face, breaking its nose and destroying one eye.

Felicia came along, three-sectioned staff held by the ends of the two outer sections nearest the middle piece, and started smacking it rhythmically.

Rose had hers down to armless, Sunrise had blinded hers completely, Jenna had hers dead, and I was winding up to finish mine off when Felicia ducked-spun-twisted— and hers was wrapped up in her staff, held immobile with its left arm pinned against its face.

"Now, Riley," Felicia said calmly.

Riley stepped in, swinging his mace like a baseball bat. Their ice demon's head shattered, even as I finished my swing and knocked mine's head clear off.

Rose slammed the metal end of her staff into a visible crack down the middle of the torso on the one she had laid claim to, and it shattered into ice chips.

Sunrise stepped back, did a couple of steps of the ginga, and spun into a high double-kick, knocking hers back and into a silent boiler. It cracked down the middle, like Rose's had, and Sunrise lunged forward, slammed her staff into the crack while it had nowhere to retreat to— and it shattered.

"I am never going to be able to watch Frosty the Snowman around Christmas time again," Sunrise said mournfully. "Asshole ice demons."

We chuckled softly, finished the basement sweep, killed one more that seemed to be coming to check on its friends, then went up to the half-floor that was the ground floor. It was very small, only a small lobby and a pair of bathrooms, and there were only two of the things there, apparently guarding the entrance. Short work.

Then we heard shouting from up on the first floor, and Rose led us up at a run. Just before we turned up the last flight of stairs, we heard Xander shout, "HELENA!"

Rose went all super-speed again, like she had the day her Mom saw that Jerry had been killed and cried out.

When we caught up with her, it was a total disaster. There were maybe fifteen ice demons all around the lobby, and the fight was bad— these were bigger than the ones we'd fought, and seemingly tougher.

When I got to the top of the stairs— I was in the back, remember— Rose had gone back-to-back with Xander on one side of Helena, who lay on the ground, bleeding from the stomach, and Buffy and Sara were back-to-back on Helena's other side. Demons charged them from all sides, seemingly determined to cost us at least one of our own.

I saw the edge of the set-in-the-floor rubber matting ahead of me, and got an inspiration.

I charged the area of the fight, picked a group of three ice demons that were jostling each other while trying to get close to Sara and Buffy, and, at the edge of the mat, I planted my staff in the seam, jumped up and levered with arms and shoulders, pole-vaulted (inexpertly, I admit) up and came down feet first into one of the three demons, slamming him back into the two behind him, knocking all three down, causing two more to trip over them.

"And the Dancing Slayer picks up the spare!" Xander said as I landed and shattered the head of the first one to stand.

Sara nailed two while they were down, Buffy and I got the last two of the five as they got up. As we did so, Riley grabbed one by the arm it had tried to grab him with, stepped into it, twisted his hips, and threw it headfirst into the hard tile (being off of that rubber mat), shattering the head and killing it.

Tracy nailed the last two of them that were attacking right then, simply charging into the one in front with her shield up, slamming it back into the one behind it, and both back into the brick wall of the lobby. The one in back shattered, and she crushed the front one's head with her mace while it was still stunned.

"Vincent!" Buffy yelled. "Casualty!"

He was already coming to Helena's side, bending over her, making a hissing noise of distress between his teeth.

Helena had a raw, bloody hole in her stomach, pretty much centered between her navel and the bottom of her sternum.

"Helena, can you hear me?" Vincent asked.

"Hear you," Helena said in a faraway voice. "How bad?"

"Very bad," Vincent said, refusing to lie to her. "I can help some— but it will hurt."

"Can take it," Helena said. "Losing arm— not real high on 'feel good' scale, y'know?"

"I can imagine," Vincent said. "Helena… I have no painkillers to give you. Sh'rin?"

"All I have would make her sleep," Sh'rin said. "That would be bad. But… I can help other ways.

"Someone get me snow— snow, not demon chips. A lot of snow, heap Tracy's shield. And I need cloth. As much as can be found. Tightly woven would be best."

"I'll get some, I saw some!" Ballard said. "Be right back!"

He sprinted up the stairs while Sh'rin called Sunrise to her, and Tracy went to the door, opened it, scooped up snow with her shield, and brought it back to set beside Sh'rin.

"Helena, can you tell me what happened?" Sh'rin asked, trying to keep Helena's mind engaged, keep her awake. She mixed herbs together at a breakneck pace as she continued. "I was not looking this way."

"I broke one's hand off when it came at me," Helena gasped. "It got more cautious after that, and I was focused on it, on trying to kill it. But I forgot that broken _ice_ can be as sharp as broken _glass_— until it stabbed me with the broken end of its arm. Dumb, huh?"

"Human," Sh'rin corrected. "You will remember next time, I am sure."

"Oh, yeah," Helena said. "Not forgetting this, trust me!"

A bundle of cloth hit the floor in the stairwell then, and Rose ran to get it, shouted thanks up at Ballard, who'd gotten it to us a few seconds faster by dropping it rather than carrying it. She came back, handed the bundle— which turned out to be two ISU Redbirds hoodies and a windbreaker— to Sh'rin, who produced a knife and started cutting them into broad strips.

"Dawn, love, stop her bleeding as best you can while I prepare the bandages," Sh'rin said.

"Will do," Sunrise said. She picked up the leather pad full of crushed and mixed herbs, and moved to kneel over Helena. "Helena, this is going to hurt a lot— but it has to be done. So what I want you to do is take this—" She took a tightly folded piece of heavy leather, held it up. "— and put it between your teeth, bite it when the pain hits. I'm a big wimp, and I'll get shaky if you scream."

"Wimp my ass," Helena panted. "You fight. No Slayer— but you fight. No wimp."

"Thanks," Sunrise said. "Ready?"

"Gimme the bite-thing." Helen took the leather between her teeth and nodded at Sunrise.

Sunrise charted chanting— no spell, it seemed to be about timing— in Sh'rin's native language, and slowly and steadily sprinkled herbs into the wound in Helena's stomach. Helena let out a sort of keening groan, and bit hard enough on the leather that I could see the muscles in her jaw bunch into knots— but she didn't scream.

"Done," Sunrise said a minute later. "The bleeding's slowed a lot— but not stopped."

Vincent and Sh'rin had been working together while Sunrise worked, and now they came over with wet bands of folded cloth, and one ball of cloth, also wet. I took a second to figure it out, but I did— the cloth was filled with snow, to slow the bleeding further.

"Helena, I am sorry for the pain this will cause," Vincent said. "But it is necessary— and it will diminish the pain."

Still biting the leather, Helena only nodded sharply.

Vincent took the ball of cloth, pushed it firmly into the wound— and held Helena down by main force as she arched up against the hurt, her body trying to shove him away, since it couldn't retreat. When she got control again, he said, softly, "Good— good, Helena. You have great strength, and not just of body. Use it. The pain will fade quickly now, just hold on."

Then Sh'rin was next to them, placing folded up strips of cloth, packed with snow, over the wound, laying them out with the ends trailing off to the sides.

As the cold numbed her wound, I could see Helena relax. Soon enough, the pain had faded to the point where she sat up (with help), and Vincent pulled the strips of cloth under her body, tied them tightly at her side. She only grunted, so I figured the worst of the pain was gone.

"That is the most we can do right now," he said. "Helena, you are in no danger of dying— but we do need to get you home, where Samantha can do more, and Sh'rin has more supplies to help her. We will leave as soon as we can."

"Finish the job here first," Helena said. "Finish it!"

"We will," Buffy said. "We will, Helena.

"Willow… are all the ice demons dead?"

"Yeah, you guys got them all," Willow said. "Get everyone back to the edges of the lobby, and I'll break the spell."

We all retreated into the hallways at the opposite sides of the lobby, then stood and watched as Willow started her counter spell. It took about three minutes— Wil was going slow, being careful, so taking her time.

Very suddenly, Willow's voice rose from a chant to a shout— and the magical pattern on the lobby floor vanished. But at that moment, a tendril of dark orange light rose up from the floor, lashed out with terrifying speed— and drove into Willow's chest, right in the middle of her breastbone. Willow was lifted three or so feet off the ground— and she screamed in pain, even as the tentacle of light grew thicker and brighter.

Even as Buffy charged out to try and help Willow, we all heard a high, girlish laugh echo through the whole building— and all of us knew that we were hearing Amy Madison.

"Poor Willow," Amy's voice, coming from nowhere in particular, said. "Didn't check for a contingency spell, did you? Now you're going to feed the spell that makes things hell for all of your friends— with your magic and your worthless life!"

Buffy swung her mace at the energy tentacle— and got flung backwards, hard, landed in a heap against the wall— even as Lydia, who had followed her out, tried to grab Willow and pull her free. Lydia, too, was thrown back. She got up even as Buffy stood, and started back towards Willow, as all of the rest of us surged forward, wanting to help.

Amy had stopped talking— but her laughter kept echoing through the hall.

"Sh'rin!" Sunrise yelled suddenly. "Give me the sword!"

With no hesitation at all, Sh'rin tossed the Guardian's Blade to Sunrise, even as Buffy cried, "Dawn, no, you'll—"

"I can do this!" Sunrise yelled. "She's my friend, and I can save her! Stay out of my way!"

Buffy didn't move forward as Sunrise stalked towards the energy tentacle and Willow— but she bit her lip in worry.

"Oh, look," Amy's mocking voice said. "Slayer's little sister thinks she's going to break a spell the most powerful Wicca in about forever can't stop!

"You'll only die, little girl!"

"I may not know a lot of magic," Sunrise cried, drawing the Guardian's Blade and tossing the sheath back towards Sh'rin, who caught it neatly, "but what I do know is magic so old, so long forgotten, that you _can't_ be prepared for it, you stupid bitch!"

"Wanna bet?" Amy teased.

Sunrise didn't answer, just stopped a couple of feet from the light-tentacle, raised the sword over her head, held horizontally, and started chanting, her voice getting louder and louder, even as Sh'rin gasped.

"She combines the Turning Lightning and the Protector's Circle!" Sh'rin cried. "Oh, love, _be careful!"_

Sunrise only kept chanting, while Ballard and Sh'rin clung to each other, as did Rose and I.

Suddenly, the sword above Sunrise's head started to glow— and Sh'rin gasped again— but this time, a gasp of amazement and hope.

"The Blade!" Sh'rin cried. "She focuses them on the Blade! Yes, Dawn, _yes!"_

The Guardian's Blade suddenly started crackling with energy, a pale blue lightning that seemed not to bother Sunrise at all. She brought the sword down to a prepare-to-strike position— and she smiled, a cold, hard thing.

"Eat this, Amy!" Sunrise yelled.

She stepped forward, spinning, and lashed out with the sword, bringing it around and down— and there was a brilliant burst of white light, so bright that I couldn't see for a second.

And for just a second, we all heard Amy Madison scream in pain, before that sound just cut off in mid scream.

Then it faded, and there stood Sunrise, the Guardian's Blade out before her, angled down— and oh, god she looked sexy, _dangerously_ sexy, like Rose does while doing her highest level kung fu forms.

Willow, lying on the ground face down, was slowly pushing herself up on her hands.

Then we were all shouting and running forward, and trying to hug them both, even though they were a couple of feet apart.

After a minute, Willow gently disengaged herself from Lydia's almost frantic hug, and went to Dawn, waited for Buffy to let go of her sister, then pulled Dawn into a super-tight, super-grateful hug.

"Dawn Summers," Willow said when she had her arms around Sunrise's neck, her cheek pressed against Sunrise's own. "You are freaking amazing! That spell— I could have broken it from outside, but I don't know of anyone else who could! You are the most amazing thing I've seen in a while— and I owe you my life.

"Thank you, Dawn."

"You'd have done the same for me," Dawn said, and kissed Wil's cheek. "And you'll probably get the chance. So… you're welcome. But when the time comes to put that bitch Amy down?

"Give her a shot for me!"

"Deal!" Willow said, and pulled Dawn close to hug her again.


	67. Chapter 67

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 67

_Rose:_

Man, that was scary! Sunrise… Sh'rin seemed utterly floored by what our Sunrise girl had done, the innovation of it. She kissed Dawn long and hard when the others had let her go, then said, "You amaze me, Dawn Summers— for you think in ways that I cannot. Using the Guardian's Blade to channel and strengthen your spell, combining the Turning Lightning and the smaller Protector's Circle into a single spell… I am amazed, my love, and delighted."

"And hogging all the kisses," Ballard said, gently worming his way into the circle of their arms around each other. "Not allowed."

He kissed Sunrise just as long and eagerly as Sh'rin had, then grinned and said, "I'm more amazed than Sh'rin, Dawn— 'cause I can't do any magic at all. You _rock,_ lady."

We got ready to leave then, and hooked back to the safety line— except Willow, Helena and Sara. Those three were going ahead, Wil carrying Sara and Helena telekinetically so that Helena could get to Sam faster, and Sara along for a fighter, if anything should crop up. The rest of us trudged back through the snow.

It was still snowing, too, still coming down thick and hard— but the wind was almost totally gone, and Willow assured us that the storm would burn itself out "in a day or so," without the spell to keep it going. And without the wind… well, the snow was pretty, and it felt peaceful and homey.

We walked home in only an hour and a quarter, without having to fight the wind.

_Interlude:_

Amy woke up with a splitting headache, and with Claudia's arms around her. They were in bed, down in what had originally been the master bedroom, and Claudia had started a fire in the fireplace. Between the covers, Claudia's body heat and the fire, Amy was warm enough. If not for the headache and her anger, she'd have been perfectly happy to be right where she was.

"Ow, _dammit,"_ Amy groaned. "Sweetie… could you get me the feedback mix? My head wants to leave my shoulders in the messiest possible way."

"Right away, Amy," Claudia said, sounding relieved and subdued. She got out of bed, padded naked to the bathroom— it was a sign of her misery that the sight didn't excite Amy at all— and came back with a fistful of pills and a bottle of water.

Two Tylenol, two Advil, four aspirin and two Excedrin Migraine tablets later, Amy capped the water and flopped back on the pillows.

"Claudia… I'm sorry." Amy sighed deeply. "I screwed up. I got cocky. I thought… shit, I don't know what that magic was, but that little bitch was right— I've never seen anything like it. It was… it was primal, old, ancient. And I wasn't ready for it."

"Want me to kill her?" Claudia asked, sliding back into the bed, letting her hand fall on Amy's stomach and rubbing in a slow, relaxing fashion that was only a tiny bit sexy. "I can get away with it. Couldn't hand-to-hand, maybe, there are always Slayers around her, but… I'm good with that bow. I could do it and get away. She hurt you, I hate her for that!"

"It's a sweet thought," Amy said, and caressed Claudia's cheek lightly. "But I think it's a bad idea. Love… the Powers That Be are taking sides. So… we just have to wait for the right moment, for the spell to be ready, and let what comes of it take care of as many of them as it can, then pick off the rest of them as we can. I want Willow and Buffy. Past that… you get to kill to your heart's content. You can certainly have Dawn. And the two they call the Chosen Couple, I want them dead. Between them, there's… something. The little redhead, she's a leader, she could step into Buffy's shoes, and her girlfriend… well, there's more to her than meets the eye."

"Hard to believe that little redheaded thing is older than me," Claudia said. "She looks like she's, I don't know, twelve? But she's fifteen. I'd hate looking all little and kiddy-ish like that."

Amy frowned for a second, and tried to make that fit her mental picture of Claudia. It wouldn't fit at all.

"Sweetie, I thought you were eighteen?" Amy said.

"Oh, hell, no," Claudia laughed. "Oh, I got the ID says I am— needed it to do some things. But I'm fourteen. Be fifteen on the last day of April."

"I'll be damned," Amy murmured. "You know, I was already jealous of your body, sweetie— and now I find out you're only fourteen? Super-jealous. And also feeling very much like a dirty old lady, which, okay, not a bad feeling at all. Kinky— and I like it.

"Only fourteen, and managed to take over the crime in Chicago, and now here? Claudia, you're amazing. And amazingly hot."

"Thank you," Claudia said, blushing and smiling shyly. "But really, I'm not half as hot as you. And you've taught me so much….

"Amy, I know your head hurts, but… would it make it feel better if I made love to you?"

"Why don't we find out?" Amy whispered, and kissed Claudia.

It turned out that making love made Amy feel much better— and the added kink of finding out that her lover was just a girl, a girl eight years younger than her, made that happen that much more quickly.

_Rose:_

I was near the back again on the way home, so I knew it was coming. I saw, dimly, something with wings come from out of a high tree when we were about halfway home, glide down, and land on the arm of a figure in front of me. I couldn't see who it was that the bird went to, but I still knew— it had to be Sh'rin. After a moment or two, the bird took off again, and I saw that it wasn't an owl, this time, but something small and sleek, a raptor of some sort.

Sunrise was getting promoted, and she deserved it!

We made it home without incident, and were met by Graham, who we saw standing out in the middle of the lawn. We didn't see his men— until he raised a radio and said a soft, "All clear— stand down and make camp."

At that point, three snowdrifts that I could see shifted and roiled— and became men in white ponchos, each heavily armed.

We invited them in for hot drinks, but they refused. Buffy insisted that Graham, at least, come in for a few. He agreed, after Riley glared at him.

We all went around to the back, and into the garage, so we wouldn't track tons of snow in, got out of our outer layers there, then went in. Graham told us, while we got out of the cold weather gear, that Sam was probably still working on Helena, but had said, after looking her over, that it wasn't anything a Slayer couldn't bounce back from, especially since she'd gotten good care on scene.

Sam was working on Helena— on the kitchen table. She was just closing Helena up, and told us in firm-but-polite terms to get out of the kitchen, as she didn't want us giving Helena an infection.

We went to the dining room, found four big, thirty-cup percolators set up on the table there, one with coffee, one with tea, one with cocoa, and one with my favorite hot drink ever— a Christmas punch made with cranberry juice, apple juice, orange juice concentrate, tea bags, cinnamon sticks and both brown and white sugar. Wonderful stuff, and pretty popular— Mom was making a fresh batch in a fifth percolator while we came in.

Sh'rin waited until we had all sat down (Glitter draped herself around my neck immediately, which was totally welcome), then pulled Sunrise near the fire, sat her down there, and said, "Turn your left side to me, love."

Sunrise's eyes widened, but she nodded, and turned. Sh'rin took the feather she'd gotten on her way home, notched the shaft a couple of times, then cast her spell to preserve it as it was. She then separated out some of Sunrise's hair, cut it off a little longer than she had the last time, and started making a tiny braid again. Knowing what was happening, this time, Sunrise sat and blushed and smiled.

Once it was almost done, Sh'rin stood, and asked for everyone's attention, even though she already had it— even Chantelle, sitting and cuddling Jocelyn while Whitey sat and cuddled her, was watching raptly.

"Tonight, Dawn Summers, whom I am proud to call my love, has again earned a badge of the Guardians," Sh'rin said, her voice formal, but warm and proud. Her fingers worked, braiding the feather into Sunrise's hair as she talked. "The first badge she earned by exceptional wisdom in the use of our magics, by placing a defense around those too busy with more urgent things to do than defend themselves, and doing so in a fashion that I, chief of the Guardians in this now, would never have thought of. This first badge was the feather of the owl, for wisdom.

"This badge, she earns for defending another at the risk of her own well-being, and for brilliance in doing so.

"Tonight, Dawn combined two of the spells of the Guardians as they have never been combined before, taking Turning Lightning, made to deflect energy away from the caster, and the smaller Protector's Circle, meant to protect a single person from evil magics, and making of them a single, powerful defensive spell. She made them _more_ powerful by channeling them through the Guardian's Blade, made them powerful enough to save the life of a friend— and, in doing so, very possibly save all of us.

"And she hurt the enemy. All heard the witch Amy Madison scream in pain as Dawn used the spell-powered Blade to shatter the spell that Amy Madison had set as a trap for Willow.

"So now… Dawn has taken the second major step on the path of the Guardians; she has become a warrior in our ways. For that, I give her the feather of the falcon, the hunter, the warrior.

"Wear it well, my love!"

She stepped back, let us all see the blue-gray feather in Sunrise's hair, hanging so that its top was level with the bottom of the owl feather she already wore, next to Sunrise's jaw and neck. As she had the first time, Sunrise reached up to brush her fingers lightly along the feather— and smiled broadly.

The applause and cheers were quiet, so that we wouldn't wake Jocelyn— but no less heartfelt.

The hugs and kisses afterwards were even more heartfelt!

"You did good, Dawnie," Buffy said after hugging her sister. "And you were right to tell me to back off— but _don't_ make a habit of it!"

"I don't know, I kind of liked it," Dawn said, smiling. "But… okay. I'll only do it when I know I'm right."

"Just stay right, and I'll let you get away with it," Buffy said— then stepped back to let Xander hug her.

We told the tale afterwards, being way too wound up to sleep, and those who'd stayed at home were impressed. Sam came out just as we started, had Vincent move Helena out here to her sleeping bag, said she should be fine.

"You may want to get her to a cosmetic surgeon, later," Sam said. "I'm not a bad surgeon— but with a messy punch wound like that, there'll be a scar, a pretty bad one. She's a pretty girl— she shouldn't have to deal with an ugly scar for doing the right thing."

"A definite on the to-do list," Kelly said. "Thank you, Sam— you've been a godsend, tonight."

"Anything for our friends," Sam said.

Eventually, we went to bed— some of us pretty frustrated for lack of privacy to make love, as our bodies wanted to do after the danger we'd been in.

Graham and his men did let themselves be convinced to come in for a hot, fresh, home-cooked breakfast the next morning, before heading back towards Naval Station Great Lakes. They all got deeply and sincerely thanked, and Graham got hugged a few times— he blushed, but bore up under being hugged by some grateful (and pretty!) girls. (Yes, I hugged him— he stayed here and he protected our people, freed us up to do the job that needed doing without worrying about our folks at home. Besides, he's a sweet, sweet man. And we'll just ignore the hunk factor, okay?)

It stopped snowing about nine that night— and the emergency crews were finally able to get on the roads and get to work. We were still comfortable, though. We'd spent the day just hanging out and talking, snuggling a lot, watching Chantelle and Whitey and Jocelyn all cuddle together. We were all allowed to hold the baby some, and that… well. Okay, that's when I decided that I was just going to have to have intercourse with a man someday, because I wanted a baby!

Nice, warm-fuzzy-happy day— which we needed.

The next day, they got the roads sort of open— and we went to volunteer at the various shelters around town, some of us— the rest went on emergency evac crews, helping the Red Cross and the National Guard get people with health problems out of their homes and to medical care.

That night, we patrolled in four groups— because of looters. Looters! Damned assholes! They were going to abandoned houses, breaking in and sacking the places. Made me wish for a demon to stomp— I wanted to kill something!

Thursday afternoon at about three, the power came back on, and Xander's generator powered down, so when we got home from another day of evac work, we found a warm, well-lit home. The National Guard was out in force to prevent looting, so we had the night off. A whole LOT of people went to bed suspiciously early….

Elaine and I went to bed early, all right… and we went with Sh'rin, Sunrise and Ballard.

Didn't start out that way, honest. We were all just talking in my room, laughing, having a good time preparatory to them going off to one of their rooms and getting nuts while Elaine and I got nuts here, and well… one second, everything is normal, and the next, Sunrise is stripping a very surprised (and blushing) Ballard. I… wanted to watch, and Elaine wanted to watch, and none of them minded (once Ballard got over his blush, anyway), so pretty soon, Sh'rin, Sunrise and Ballard were, uh, getting nuts on each other, and Elaine and I had snuggled up on either side of ballard to watch, both of us way more fascinated than we'd ever expected.

We didn't do much with him— just some necking, and a little light petting. He returned that, after making sure it was all right with both us and Sunrise and Sh'rin. Before the night was over, we'd seen oral sex and male-female intercourse from… uh, really close up. As close as Sunrise had been while watching us right before our first time with her.

Eventually, we all fell asleep, one big puppy pile of happily exhausted people— and of people who all loved each other.

When we went to breakfast Friday morning, we found out that we weren't the only ones who'd done something new the night before. Willow and Lydia had that whole "new lovers glow" going on, and Lydia looked almost indecently sated, as well as sort of happily stunned. Good on her!

We goofed off all that day— nifty and relaxing.

Riley and Sam stayed for two weeks altogether, went to see his family the Friday before Thanksgiving. The last four nights they were with us, we had to practically force them to stay in, stay on vacation— because Bloomington suddenly had a vampire problem. A serious one. We were patrolling every night, four groups of three, rotating the teams to get everyone used to each other.

Willow cast several spells, some with Kimber's help, some with help from Sh'rin and Sunrise, one with all four of them working on it, all aimed at figuring out what the hell was going on— and none of them helped.

"I can't get past the damned counter magics that Amy's set up," Willow groused after they'd all four tried together to see if they could locate the source of the sudden vampire incursion. "I mean— okay, I can't even say for sure that it's Amy, but… but, Giles, it's Amy! She's doing… something. I don't know what, but she's responsible for this, just like she was for the ice demons!"

"I'm sure you're right," Giles said. "I've asked for some help from the coven that helped me deal with you after Tara's death. They're looking into it… but I fear that if you can't get past Amy's wards, they've really very little chance of doing so."

"I hope I can figure something out," Willow muttered. "Or that they can. I want this bitch gone, Giles!"

"As do I, Willow," Giles said. "As do I."

Sunday afternoon, Ballard's father's goons showed up to try and take Ballard home with them.

You can imagine how well that went over, I'll bet.

I answered the door when they came to the house, having been reading to Glitter in the living room. I opened the door, saw four very large men in black suits standing on the porch, a big black Cadillac Escalade in the drive, and I got a bad feeling.

"May I help you?" I asked.

"I need to speak to Cecil Innes," the goon in front said, his voice oddly high pitched from such a big man.

"Sorry, no one here by that name," I said— and closed the door in his face.

He rang again immediately, and before I answered, I hit the all-call on the intercom, said, "We have a billionaire problem," and opened the door again.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice cross.

"Cecil Aloysius Ballard Innes," the goon said. "Or perhaps he's only using Ballard Innes."

"Oh, okay," I said. Then I smiled my best 'don't mess with me' smile and said, "Well, you can't talk to him. Goodbye!"

I went to shut the door in his face— and he slapped a hand in the middle of it, stopping me from shutting it.

"Little girl, either you go get him, or we come in and get him," the goon said.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I'd love to see you try, Thug One," I said, giving him a sunny smile. "I haven't had a good fight all day."

Thug one growled, shoved the door open, and stepped in —

— then flew back out, knocking down his friends, as I drove a spinning back kick into his gut.

I heard voices behind me, so I left the door open (and never mind the heating bill) as I stepped outside and waited for the thugs to pick themselves up out of the snow.

As soon as they were all vertical, I said, "Okay— this is a private residence and private property. As a legal resident of said property, I am telling you— not asking, _telling_— to get off of this property and not to come back. Failure to do so will give me an excuse to humiliate the lot of you, which, I gotta admit, sounds like fun."

I got to have my fun.


	68. Chapter 68

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 68

_Elaine:_

Watching Rose trounce Ballard's father's thugs was a lot of fun, and she was very obviously enjoying herself.

Ballard, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. Seeing these goons, who were the same ones that had tracked him to Miami and Columbus (he told us afterwards), get their asses handed to them by a tiny little fifteen year old who didn't look like she could beat up a starving puppy… he was still getting chuckles over it hours later.

While all four guys were laying on the ground, groaning and moaning and trying very hard to figure out how to save face, Rose stood in the middle of them, looked around, saw Giles in the doorway, looking very amused, and said, "Dad? You want to tell them, make it official?"

"Oh, I've gone a step farther than that," Giles said. "Given that the one in charge, there, attempted to force his way into our home, I called the police."

The goons started trying to get up, then— but too late. A City of Normal police car pulled into our drive, followed closely by a McLean County Sheriff's Department car.

Soon, all four had been placed under arrest, shoved in the backs of the two cars and hauled off— because of the security system. The one Rose called Thug One tried to deny ever forcing his way in— and Giles played the security tape for the cops, then gave them the original after making a copy for himself.

Ballard explained it quite simply, saying to the police, "My father is obscenely wealthy and very used to getting his own way. Well, I'm twenty-one now, and I'm going to live my life my way— and that includes never setting eyes on my father again."

The cops seemed to like that. They took away the thugs, praised Rose loudly, laughed openly over the video of her kicking the asses of four big men— and went away, taking the thugs with them.

We patrolled that night, my team (I was leading a team of Felicia and Xander) finding and killing only two vampires— but considering that one of them was about to feed on a twelve year old black boy, I felt pretty good. Saving a life, never a bad thing!

Monday after school, I came home with everyone else, and about five, the doorbell rang. I got it, and found four more thugs standing there.

"I need to speak to Ballard Innes, please," the one in front said.

"You guys just do not learn, do you?" I asked meditatively. "I mean— is it my turn to play 'beat up the morons,' now?"

"Get Mr. Innes, and no one gets hurt," the thug said.

"That was a threat, wasn't it?" I asked, smiling. "You guys amaze me— stupidity rises to new heights."

"Get. Innes." The thug was trying to sound menacing.

"Better idea," I said. "Get off of this property immediately, or go to jail."

"Okay, that's it," the thug said— and pushed me backwards, stepped across the threshold.

I danced them into the land of "Ow, that hurts," singing softly to myself to keep the beat while I beat them down with Capoeira, and Giles called the police again.

This time Giles asked about a getting restraining order against all employees of Ballard's father. The cops sounded doubtful, but did suggest that Giles speak to Daniel Burns, the lawyer who'd helped out when the cop had been trying to arrest Rose after she'd killed the orcs at school.

Giles called Mr. Burns's office, left a message requesting to be called back at the school in the morning, and we forgot about the goombas.

When we got home, Giles said the Mr. Burns had managed to get the restraining order against any employees of Ballard's dad, and that if any came here, we were to call the police and nothing else— unless they tried to break in.

So naturally, Wednesday afternoon the man himself showed up. I again answered the door, and there stood an elegantly dressed man— Armani suit, cut perfectly to fit him— with silver hair and sharp blue eyes.

"Good afternoon," he said. "My name is Phillip Innes. Would it be possible for me to speak to my son, Ce—Ballard, please?"

Well, he was being civil. That was an improvement. So I said, "A moment, please, I'll see if he wants to speak to you," and closed the door gently. I called Ballard— I knew he'd be in the kitchen, he was, at his request, getting cooking lessons from all the cooks in the house— and said, "Ballard, your father is here himself, and he asked— very politely— to speak to you. What should I tell him?"

A moment later, Ballard's voice on the intercom said, very grudgingly, "I'll speak to him. Tell him I'm coming, but make sure he waits outside."

"All right," I said, and opened the door. "Mr. Innes, Ballard is coming, but he says he'd rather speak to you outside."

"Thank you," Innes said. "I'll wait."

A moment later, Ballard, accompanied by Whitey, Sunrise, Sh'rin and Giles, arrived at the door, and all got dressed for going outside.

"Want to come along?" Ballard asked. "I… won't talk to him alone. I won't."

"Sure," I said, and grabbed my coat from the closet.

We all went outside, and Mr. Innes turned around. He looked annoyed, said, "May I have some privacy while I speak to my son, please?"

"No," Ballard said. He had Sunrise and Sh'rin each by the hand, but he let them go and stepped forward. "No. If you have anything to say to me, you can say it in front of my friends— or you can leave it unsaid."

"I see," Phillip Innes said slowly. "Very well.

"You're coming home with me, Ballard. Now. Tonight. I will brook no argument."

"Yeah, right," Ballard said. "That's going to happen right after you give every penny and piece of property you've got to the American Red Cross while tap dancing on the ceiling, Dad."

"No, it's going to happen right now," Innes said calmly. "Your mother misses you, your brother and sister miss you. I miss you— and you've had your fun, done your Kung Fu bit— and it's time to come home and act like a grown up."

"I am acting like a grown up, Dad," Ballard said. "Grown ups? They make their own choices. I choose to stay right here, with my… with the people who are my family now. With the ladies I love, the men who are like a father and brothers to me, the women who are my sisters… and the life I love.

"I found my life, Dad. You're going to have to live yours yourself— I won't do it for you."

"Stop it!" Innes snapped. "Stop this foolishness! You are my son, and you will do as I say!"

"No," Ballard said. "I am my own man— and I will do as I please."

"You WILL come home!" Innes shouted. "One way or another, Cecil, you WILL come home!"

"And that's another thing," Ballard said, stepping forward. "I won't even acknowledge that name anymore. My name is Ballard Innes, and I'm having it legally changed— I spoke to a lawyer about it yesterday."

"No, you really aren't!" Phillip Innes said. "This charade ends right now. Come with me, young man!"

He grabbed Ballard's arm, and tried to pull him forward. Bad idea.

Ballard pulled free, spun into the ginga, and fired off a half a dozen attacks at his father in the space of about three seconds— all of them aimed to miss, but still driving the man back into the yard.

"I aimed to miss that time," Ballard said. "Next time, I won't. Don't touch me. Don't you _ever_ touch me!"

"Ballard, if you do not come with me right this minute," Phillip Innes said, his voice more a hiss than ordinary speech, "I will make your life— and those of your little 'family'— into a living hell!

"Have you any idea of the power that billions of dollars can bring to bear, young man? For less than a tenth of a percent of my fortune, I can have every member of this household killed, boy!

"And if you don't get in the car right this damned minute, I will do exactly that!"

Ballard took three steps forward, started to ginga— and Whitey said, "Ballard, no. Mr. Innes has just assured himself a trip to jail— let it go."

"Jail!" Innes scoffed. "Young man, I buy judges like you buy soda. I own _senators!_ You really think you can send me to jail?"

"Well, since you, like your thugs before you, are so stupid as to ignore the fact that we have active video and audio surveillance here, yes," Whitey said. "And, as I anticipated this problem, and called the police already… you, Mr. Innes, are _busted_."

A city of Normal police car turned into the drive about then— and Phillip Innes turned purple with rage, started towards Whitey. Ballard again started to ginga, and Whitey said, "No, let me."

Ballard hesitated, then stepped out of his father's way, let the man advance on Whitey— and, in full view of a cop that he had to know was there— he'd watched the car pull in, for god's sake!— Phillip Innes attacked Whitey, screaming swear words, howling that he'd kill Whitey, and finding his every blow effectively blocked.

The cop saw this, ran up to the porch, bellowing at Mr. Innes to stop— and was ignored.

When the cop grabbed him, Mr. Innes _attacked the cop! Repeatedly!_ How fucking stupid can you get!

The cop put Phillip Innes down hard, cuffed him, stuffed him in the back of his police car, still screaming and snarling, and came back to us. Giles made a copy of the surveillance tape, gave the officer the original, thanked the guy effusively, and let him take Phillip Innes off to jail after getting a tow truck to take the man's car off to impound.

Ballard was a shaky, shivering mess after that— and Sunrise and Sh'rin took him off to comfort him until dinner time after the cop left. But before they did, Whitey stopped them and spoke.

"Ballard… you were right, you know," Whitey said. "We are your family, now— and I know that I speak for all of us when I tell you that those feelings run both ways."

"Thank you," Ballard said, and hugged Whitey hard.

"No problem," Whitey said— then grinned wickedly and added, "But you'd better have been thinking of Giles, not me, when you referred to one of us being like a father to you, or I'll kick your ass."

"Excuse me, but I am the one the Guardian's referred to as 'the Father,' you know," Giles said loftily. "So I am quite sure that Ballard won't have to put you in the hospital while defending himself, Whitey."

"Actually, I was thinking of Xander," Ballard said with a shaky smile. "Sorry, guys."

"I do believe that I have been had," Giles said with a sigh. "Go on, Ballard, take some time to pull yourself together— supper is in about an hour."

Ballard was quiet that evening, but who can blame him?

The next afternoon, Giles informed us that Ballard's father had bailed himself out (putting up the single highest bail ever required in McLean County, since he'd threatened to murder more than two dozen people, then repeatedly assaulted a cop).

Ballard might have to testify, and the rest of us, too— but none of us minded.

_Interlude:_

"Miss Marceau, what do you mean, your firm 'cannot help' with this… this rabble!"

Lilith Marceau, head of Wolfram and Hart's Bloomington offices, looked at Phillip Innes and sighed.

"Mister Innes, please understand, this decision is not mine," Lilith answered in her best conciliatory tone. "But after a… a certain difficulty involving Rupert Giles and his extended family, the Senior Partners of the firm have issued a moratorium on any actions involving that group or any member thereof— which, sadly, now includes your estranged son."

"Then get me an appointment with these 'Senior Partners,' Miss Marceau!" Innes snapped. "I will have my answer from them, not from some… some _lackey!"_

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it— but it was too late to take it back.

Lilith's face hardened, became a thing of harsh, almost terrible beauty, and she said in a soft, reasonable voice, "For that remark, Mr. Innes, your deal with North American BioChem, which had been on track, will fall through before noon tomorrow— and Harris Bergman will obtain the company, which should cost you in the neighborhood of three hundred million dollars this fiscal year alone. Several billion, over a five year period, I think."

"You can't possibly expect me to believe that you can somehow miraculously make it possible for that pissant Bergman to outbid me!" Innes blustered. "The idea is ludicrous!"

"No, you're quite right," Lilith said. "However, we can make sure that North American Biochem gets the _actual_ numbers on your compliance with the EPA— not the doctored set that you gave them. And, given that the founders are, in fact, members in good standing of several 'save the environment' groups, I am quite confident that they will decide to sell at a discount to Mr. Bergman, whose compliance numbers _need_ no doctoring."

"You wouldn't dare!" Innes said. "You can't even get those numbers! You wouldn't dare!"

Lilith pressed a few keys on her computer keyboard, copied and pasted the information that came up on her screen into an email program, added a few lines of text, went over it quickly— then spun the monitor so that Innes could see it.

Just as he started rising, furious beyond all thought, Lilith clicked her mouse— and sent the email.

"Message sent" appeared on the screen, and Innes said, "You _bitch!_ I'll see you dead for that!"

"You really don't get it, do you?" Lilith asked. She shook her head in amazement, looked at the large man standing unobtrusively in the corner of the office. "Mister Dozen? Please take Mr. Innes to the quiet room and cause him as much pain as you can without leaving any marks or endangering his life for the next… oh, two hours.

"Then get him out of my building, and if he returns… kill him."

Mister Dozen— six feet, ten inches of solid muscle, yet graceful as a jungle cat— pounced on Innes as the man ran for the door, grabbed him in an arm-lock that would take Slayer level strength to break. Or the strength of another such creature as Mr. Dozen, and there weren't very many of those in the world.

"You get your hands off me!" Innes roared. "You can't do this!"

"You are mistaken," Mr. Dozen said in his deep, powerful voice. "I can do this. Further, I will enjoy doing this.

"I may even purr."

Dozen dragged a screaming, hysterical Innes out of Lilith's office, and down the hall to the quiet room, where his screams and wails wouldn't disturb Lilith as she worked, and Lilith returned to the brief she had been working on before Innes insisted on seeing her.

_Elaine:_

Patrol that night was a bitch. I was only a team member that time, Sara was in charge, and we had Ballard for company. We had, per orders, gone out prepared for vampires, and we killed one before we ran into the not-a-vampire that we weren't equipped to fight properly.

Werewolf. It didn't bite any of us, thank god, but it did get away, and it clawed me a good one before Sara beat it off by being too small and agile for it to hit her, and too fast and powerful for it to be willing to stay and fight. It took off into the woods at the edge of Miller Park, got away clean while Sara and Ballard were checking and cleaning my wound.

Per orders, we called it in (as we were to do with any unusual threat), and then waited for the backup Giles promised us was on the way. The backup turned out to be Vivian and Vincent, her armed with a silver-bladed halberd that she could use well, her preferred weapon being a naginata, and the two being very similar, and Vincent with a big pistol loaded with silver bullets and equipped with a silencer. They also brought a tranquilizer gun for Ballard to try and use to take it down without killing it (Ballard was an excellent shot with a rifle, not very good at all with a handgun).

It took us an hour to track it, even with Vincent's knowledge of tracking and improved senses, and it almost bit Vincent before Ballard got a shot in— but it went down, unconscious, and we got it back to the house, where Whitey and Xander had managed to rig a cage that would hold it until morning.

The next morning, we had a naked man, somewhere around forty years old, sitting in the cage, head on his knees, sobbing. The first thing he said, when Giles went to talk to him, was, "Did I hurt anyone? Please, tell me I didn't hurt anyone!"

Giles was unsure at first— then Glitter flew into the basement, landed on the floor, went through the bars of the cage, and climbed into the man's arms. That decided it— this was an honestly decent man who'd had the misfortune to be bitten by a monster while vacationing in Romania.

Giles let him out, loaned him some clothes, and took him upstairs to get some food and talk to him.

Giles came to the Academy late that day, as he'd been working on helping David Maxwell, the werewolf guy. They'd come up with a solution that Mr. Maxwell— a bachelor by choice— could live with. He was a veterinarian (hello, irony!), and worked mostly with farm animals. The Montana Slayer's school, run by Rose's Aunt Mary, had some horses and cattle, and could use a combination ranch-hand-slash-veterinarian. Mr. Maxwell would stay with us for two more days (the previous night had been the first night of the full moon), then go to Montana to work and live, and have a safe place to be locked up when he wolfed out. Worked out for everyone.

But it was an escalation. First the djinn, then the ice demons, then vampires in serious numbers… and now a werewolf. Amy was cranking up whatever it was she was doing— and that made all of us very, very nervous.


	69. Chapter 69

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 69

_Rose:_

Okay… things ramped up fast after that. From vampires to a werewolf, from werewolf to some freaking nasty demons— my team ran into some three nights after Elaine and company ran into Mr. Maxwell, but fortunately, they were normal-kill demons (killable by normal weapons, just very damned tough), and they didn't actually kill anyone before we killed them. They did, however, scare the living shit out of a bunch of gang-bangers, all of whom ran like hell when we showed up— not that I blame them.

Things at home were the opposite of bad. Chantelle had taken two weeks of home-time to take care of and bond with Jocelyn… and Whitey did, too. The baby bonded with Whitey as strongly as I had with my Daddy. After talking to Mom, Sh'rin said it was because Daddy and Whitey did the same thing with their daughters; they did the cleaning up of the baby after the birth, while the mom was passing the afterbirth, with a nurse (or Sh'rin, in Whitey's case) right there just in case. Cleaning and cuddling the newborns made a bond so early and so primal that it was permanent— and there was no doubt in any of our minds but that to Whitey, Jocelyn was _his baby,_ and never mind genetics.

So they stayed home, Whitey doing what he could for the Giles Academy via e-commute, Chantelle keeping up her homework in her spare time… which she had more of than you might expect.

Jocelyn Kelly Penobscot was not a normal baby, but I mean that in a really good way.

She didn't cry unless she had a reason. She fussed when hungry, or when her diaper needed changing, but she didn't cry unless the situation wasn't corrected in a reasonable time.

Her eyes were tracking at three days old. That shouldn't have happened for weeks yet! She would lift her head and look around at a week, and she smiled in response to the sight of Chantelle, Whitey and Glitter (who spent most of her days with the baby), and they were real smiles, not accidents. (I credit Whitey and Chantelle, there— they never, ever looked at Jocelyn without wearing a smile, not that any of us saw.) By three weeks, she had a whole range of expressions.

Chantelle and Whitey weren't selfish, either. We were all allowed to help, to play with her, to cuddle her— and we all did.

From her second day of life, that little girl was read to. I started it accidentally, and everyone else picked up the habit. It didn't matter what we were reading, we read aloud if Jocelyn was in hearing.

See, I'd been reading aloud to Glitter (who loved Terry Pratchett's books right from the start, just like I did), and Jocelyn, who'd been fussing a little, went quiet— until I stopped, at which point she started fussing again. Experiments led to figuring out that Jocelyn was quiet when read to, and Dad figured out the why.

"Reading aloud, a person's speech rhythms are very different from simple conversation," Dad said. "You don't sound the same when speaking as you do when reading aloud. Jocelyn can tell the difference, and she likes the rhythms of reading aloud, very obviously. I do believe she may well be the perfect baby, at least until such time as Kelly delivers. Then she will have to give up the title, I fear, at least as far as I am concerned."

Thanksgiving was the best I'd had since Daddy died, by far. The feast was HUGE, and all of us who can cook worked on it. Mom did the birds (four of them!), two turkeys and two geese. Whitey did the dessert baking, making four pumpkin pies, two apple and two peach. Nancy did the veggies, with assistance from Xander. Sh'rin did the salads, three kinds. I made three kinds of rolls and two loaves of fresh bread. Ballard hung around and watched and learned, helped wherever asked.

We ate like royalty. Or possibly pigs. Or maybe, you know, royal pigs.

No fights, no arguments, and no grief. Perfect day.

The Monday after Thanksgiving, Chantelle went back to school, Whitey went back to work— and Jocelyn went with. Mom and Whitey took care of her in the office, with frequent visits from Chantelle for feeding and just… cuddling.

Chantelle didn't just bounce back from the pregnancy, she came back like a hard rebound in a pro basketball game. The Slayer power had her back to her normal trim, svelte, sexy self by the time she started school again. Same day she went back to school, she started kung fu classes again, and it seemed like she'd never left. She hadn't forgotten a thing.

Good thing, too, all things considered.

The first Thursday in December, all havoc busted loose.

_Interlude:_

Claudia dropped to sit on the ground, panting, and looked at the three… men? The three creatures that she'd just subdued. They lay curled up on the ground, each in pain— and each still trying to get up.

Claudia dabbed at some blood on her cheek, where one of the things had scratched her with what seemed to be a set of natural claws, and glared at the one who'd done it. "Asshole. If this scars, I'm gonna kill you dead, and never mind anything else."

"You don't really think I'd let anything scar you, do you sweetie?" Amy asked, stepping out from under a tree. She made a waving-tying motion in the direction of the three superhuman creatures that Claudia had beat down, and each was wrapped in bands of red-black light. "Let me see… no, it wouldn't scar, even if I didn't have this." Amy produced a very old, rough ceramic jar, dabbed a tiny bit of the flowery-smelling ointment on her finger, and wiped it over the cuts on Claudia's cheek— which vanished immediately.

"Thanks, honey," Claudia said, and kissed her. "So, shall we see why these assholes attacked us?"

"Okay," Amy said. She went to the first one, knelt next to him. "Hi there. What's your name?"

"I am Fourteen." The man-shaped creature looked at her without malice. "My companions are Fifteen and Eighteen. Are you Willow Rosenberg?"

"That bitch!" Amy said. "Honey, you're lucky I don't kill you for even suggesting it!"

"Then we made a mistake," the creature said. "We will not hurt you if you let us go."

Amy felt the truth in what it said, and waved a hand. All three sets of magical bonds vanished, and all three men got to their feet.

"So, you guys want to kill Willow Rosenberg?" Amy asked brightly.

"Killing is not necessary," Fourteen said. "We wish merely to interrogate her regarding the traitor Six. Command does not believe that Six is dead. Command has determined that only Willow Rosenberg could hide him from the efforts of the seer Phyllis Teller. We are to locate Willow Rosenberg while she is alone, capture her, and interrogate her regarding the whereabouts of Six."

"Do you have a picture of Six?" Amy asked.

Fourteen produced a photo of a handsome, powerful-looking blond man, and Amy recognized him immediately from her surveillance of the action at Wright Hall at the beginning of November.

"Yes, he's under Willow Rosenberg's protection," Amy said. "I've seen him in her company."

"Can you direct us to Willow Rosenberg?" Fourteen asked. "If we can find her, we can recapture Six."

"I don't think you could do that, not yet," Amy said truthfully. "But… counteroffer. You and your three friends here, you work with my girlfriend and I for three weeks, possibly four, and you will be able to capture Six after I have destroyed Rosenberg."

"I see," Fourteen said. "I must check with Command."

"Feel free," Amy said, waving a negligent hand. "But don't bother asking for my name— I won't give it. Or hers, you won't get it, either. Simply say that you've run into people who hate Rosenberg and her friends, who will be working to destroy them, and will help you get your hands on Six in exchange for your services."

Fourteen produced a cell phone, made a call, and said exactly what Amy had told him to. After a moment, he held the phone towards Amy, who held up one finger to ask for a moment, then cast a short, simple spell. She then took the phone, and when she spoke, her voice was a perfect copy of Katherine Hepburn's, circa Rooster Cogburn and the Lady.

"Why do you want Willow Rosenberg dead, and why won't you say who you are?" a man's voice asked as soon as Amy, sounding like the dead actress, had said hello.

"I want her dead because she's a stupid bitch who always gets her own way," Amy said. "I won't say who I am because I trust you about as far as I could throw the rock of Gibraltar. I'm going to walk away from this free and clear, and only way I can be sure of doing that is if you don't know who I am."

"What will you have my men doing?" the man asked.

"Oh, some guard work, some killing of Willow's friends, and maybe some killing of stubborn criminals who don't want to work the way I tell them to," Amy said.

"Why should I trust you?" the man asked.

"You should trust me, for the moment, because our goals happen to mesh," Amy said. "After Willow's dead… you shouldn't trust me at all, if you cross me.

"If, on the other hand, you don't order your men— or whatever they are, they aren't human, I can tell— to try to kill me after this is done, just tell them to let me go about my business, then you should trust me because I don't give a shit about anything but being rich, comfortable, and able to live in a Willow-free world. I can be rich and comfortable without getting in your way, I'm sure— I'm intending to leave the States, go to Europe, as soon as Willow's dead."

"Fine," the man said. "Deal. But if you fuck with me, my men will be ordered to hunt you down and kill you. And I have a lot more than just those three you're dealing with now at my disposal."

"Whatever," Amy said. "Don't threaten me, you can't back it up— your men are alive because they interest me. You're alive because killing you would upset your men. And before you go blustering… _distaga d'len k'krath_."

From the other end of the phone came a panicked gulping, the sound of water splashing on the floor and a muttered, "Oh, shit!"

"No, you just did that," Amy said. "I gave you catastrophic diarrhea _over the phone_ because you threatened me.

"Imagine what I'll do if you really piss me off.

"Tell your critters to do as I say, then go clean yourself up, and stay the hell out of my way, 'kay?"

She handed the phone back to Fourteen, who held it to his ear, listened for a moment, then said, "Yes, sir," and closed it. He looked at Amy and said, "Orders, ma'am?"

"First, be aware that only two people can give you orders," Amy said. "Myself and the girl who just beat you three down. All other orders are to be ignored until Willow Rosenberg is dead."

"Understood."

"Good." Amy looked thoughtful, then smiled brightly. "I know! Do you have surveillance equipment available to you?"

"We do," Fourteen confirmed.

"Excellent," Amy said. "I'll give you an address, and I want you to observe that place for the next forty-eight hours. I want snapshots— good ones, facial and full body— of everyone who comes and goes from that place. I want names associated with faces, too. There are some people who are… not cooperating with my girlfriend, and they are heavily armed enough to be able to do that. I need to get her in, and that means knowing who to make her look like.

"Oh, and if you hear a voice you positively identify as a prostitute, make sure you note that, please."

"Orders received," Fourteen said. "Objective understood.

"How shall we contact you?"

"Use this," Amy said, and handed Fourteen a pay-as-go cell phone she took from her purse. "Mine is the only number in the memory."

"Understood," Fourteen said. "We will report in forty-eight hours."

He and the other two turned and left, just like that. Amy watched them go, Claudia nestled under her arm. Once the three super-soldiers had gone, she and Claudia resumed their moonlight stroll through Miller Park, heading for the car so that they could go home and make love.

_Rose:_

At a little after seven o'clock on the first Thursday in December of 2003, the phone rang at Scooby Mansion, and I happened to be in the kitchen next to the phone there, so I answered it.

"Giles residence, etcetera, Rose speaking, may I help you?"

"Rose, this is Graham," said Graham Miller, Riley's buddy from START. "Listen and remember; I don't have time to wait and talk to Buffy even."

"Go," I said, grabbing a pad and pen to write down what he said.

"Our seers have seen an incursion of half a dozen H'lkordak demons happening in Eastland Mall in Bloomington in approximately half an hour," Graham said. He spelled H'lkordak for me, said, "They'll come up from underground near the Bergner's court.

"My men and I are an hour away by chopper, we'll never get there in time. Get info on the demons from Giles and get out there, or dozens of people are going to die, Rose!"

"On it, see you when you get here," I said, and hung up. I hit the all call, said, "Heads up, we've got a sitch— library, move it, all effectives!"

I ran to the library, handed Dad the paper, said, "Get info on those, fast!" and waited, bouncing on my feet. As soon as everyone was in, I said, "Call from Graham— his people are coming here, but can't get her fast enough to help. In about twenty-eight minutes, a group of six H'lkordak demons are going to come up from underground in the vicinity of the Bergner's court at Eastland Mall. Graham's seers say that dozens of people will die if they aren't stopped.

"Dad, what the hell's a H'lkordak demon?"

He held up a picture in a book as answer.

Question: What do you get if you cross a badger and an alligator, add a dash of cobra around the head, and blow the whole thing up to around the size of a rhinoceros?

Answer: A H'lkordak demon— and Rose Killian wishing she'd never heard of such a thing!

"Buffy, this is your department," I said— and I sat down.

"Okay, this is going to be bad," Buffy said, taking my place. "So… no damned arguments, we haven't the time!

"All Slayers— yes, you as well, Chelsea, Delia, Linnea— are going except Chantelle. All non-Slayers are going except Kelly, Giles and Nancy. Whitey, I need you— you were a cop, you understand crowd control."

"I'm in," Whitey said.

"Slayers _only_ will man the front lines against these things. Giles, do they have a bane?"

"Silvered weapons will do them serious harm, thank heavens," Giles said.

"Sweet," Buffy said. "Vincent, Ballard, you're on sniper duty, silver bullets. The rest of you non-Slayers, assist Whitey however he tells you— and be aware, panicked people do some incredibly stupid things, and you may have to clout somebody to help them out."

"Buffy," Chantelle said. "I'm gonna say this once, then shut up; we've got silver tipped arrows, and there's a nice high place on the Bergner's balcony where I can snipe, too."

Buffy hesitated for a long five seconds, then gave in. "You're in— but you get yourself out _first_ if it goes bad!"

"Yes, ma'am," Chantelle said.

"Okay," Buffy said. "Chelsea, Linnea and Delia; you will pair yourself with me, Rose and Elaine respectively. You will not leave our sides unless we order you to— or we go down, in which case you will save yourselves first, us only if you can do so without endangering yourselves. You will take a backup role— no direct attacks unless your Slayer partner has the demon's full attention. Bree, back-to-back with Sara, Abelena and Tracy, back-to-back, Elise and Jenna, back-to-back.

"Willow, Dawn, Sh'rin— you're the magic. Dawn, Sh'rin contain them if you can. Willow, you do what you do— make it work for us. Lydia, you work with Whitey— you deal with high school kids, you ought to be able to deal with a crowd.

"Two minutes to weapon up— silvered only. Grab the jackets and masks! Long-hairs, see Kelly, Laurie and Nancy for hair-pin-up jobs.

"Move!"

In five minutes, we were in the vehicles, headed for Eastland Mall at breakneck speeds. Only Dad, Mom, Nancy, Laurie, Glitter and Jocelyn stayed at home.

We got there in time, parked outside the east entrance to the mall proper, just down the hall from Bergner's department store, and we went in by threes and fours, all wearing jeans, khakis or slacks, polos, T-shirts or blouses— and silvery-gray satin jackets decorated with a bright red Chinese character that meant "demon hunter" on the back, very large. (These jackets had been Xander's idea— they let us find each other by eye in a crowd easily. Brilliant, that man!) We also all had on black stocking caps that were actually stocking masks, and would cover our faces by the simple expedient of pulling them down.

Each of us carried his or her chosen weapon— some broken down— in a sports bag or musical instrument case.

Since the Bergner's balcony area was occupied by their café, and it was closed, Chantelle would have to break in— no big, not for a Slayer. She alone went into that store. Vincent went into a smaller store, one that sold art prints and frames— and had an upper level. Ballard went down the mall to set up at the major branch hallway, where he'd hopefully be able to keep the things from coming that way by suppression fire.

I took Linnea with me to Spencer's Gifts, and we stood looking at the cheap jewelry and talking in low tones.

"When it starts, you get on my left and behind," I said. "You're not used to this, and if there was any other choice, we'd not have you start getting used to it now— so you're support only, okay, sis?"

"Got it," Linnea said, sounding nervous enough to keep me from worrying without sounding nervous enough to make me worry. "You do the big stuff, I take a shot if I've got a clean one, then back off until another shot comes up."

"Good deal," I said. I looked at her sports bag, which held a pole axe with a silvered blade. "How fast can you put that together?"

"Two seconds," Linnea said, sounding more confident. "It's easy— but not easy to break it down."

"Okay," I said. "So now we wait, but not for—"

I'd been expecting some warning, and for these things to come up slowly, or at least a little slowly. No such luck. H'lkordaks are fast. One came _exploding_ out of the floor almost straight in front of Spencer's, roaring loudly— and killing a guy before I could even get my weapon out, biting him in half.

I didn't wait for Linnea— I pulled down my mask and charged, silvered Chinese longsword spinning in my hand, and waded into the second ugliest battle I'd fought to that date, the only uglier one being the battle with the dragon at my high school.


	70. Chapter 70

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 70

_Rose:_

All I saw for a second or two was the spray of blood from the H'lkordak biting that guy in half, all I felt was blind rage. But I know how to use that rage, and use it I did, channeling it into my muscles, sending adrenaline into my system under semiconscious control.

These things were fast, and I was aware, in a distant fashion, of several more bursting through the floor at various points around the hallway and court area— but I ignored all but the one in front of me. I brought my sword around and down, spinning it for the extra power, cutting into the H'lkordak's hide deeply enough to draw blood once, twice, a third time. It whipped around, fast as a pissed-off cat, leaped at me with its jaws wide, and I hopped back— even as Linnea's silvered halberd thrust forward, sank into the tender roof of the monster's mouth. It leapt backwards, making a sort of groaning, trumpeting roar, and shook its head, sending little drops of blue blood in all directions.

These things looked essentially _wrong_. Elongate a badger until it's about ten feet from nose to butt, add five feet of tail, make it four or more feet from shoulder to shoulder, five feet high at the highest point of its slightly humped shoulders, give it a sort of flaring, leathery hood like a cobra, stretch the muzzle and fill it with more teeth than any self-respecting shark would know what to do with, and cover the whole thing in a blue-gray hide that made rhino and alligator hide look like rice paper, and you have yourself a H'lkordak demon— and probably a lot of nightmares.

It groan-trumpeted again, and started for me. I felt Linnea behind me, waiting in the perfect place, out of my way, but able to reach with her longer weapon, and I decided to give her another shot. I swung my blade around and down again, split the tip of the thing's muzzle for it, about three inches of its length parting under my silvered blade. With a little hissing noise— "Hss-cha!"— Linnea thrust forward with her halberd, sinking the blade in a good ways just above where the leg and body met, slowing it down some— good girl!

A security guard appeared then, a bunch of people behind them, looking for a way past the thing, and up into the demon-free areas of the mall. The H'lkordak noticed the group, started to turn that way— and Ballard shot it in the head from his position down the mall.

He didn't kill the critter, but boy, did he piss it off! It spun that way, saw nothing, and stood there, looking around with apparently weak eyes, scenting the air— and the guard got the group past it on one side. Just as it would have noticed them, Linnea and I attacked it at the same time, gouging it deeply, got it to spin and look at us— and the innocents were past it and safe.

Then we got busy again, as it attacked in a frenzy, badly injured and blindly furious. We had to split up, or it would have torn us both up— but Linnea played it smart. She'd poke it a split second after I did, on the opposite side, confusing it. When he had a shot, Ballard would put another rifle bullet in the thing.

We wore it down, trying to ignore the roars and yelling of other fights, the screams of the injured— and I got an idea, inspired by Sara's insane attack on the dragon at my high school.

"Linnea!" I yelled. "Get ready to stab this thing and brace! Hear me? Get in front of it and brace your weapon!"

Linnea moved around near me, and I did the insane— I waited until it had turned to look at Linnea, then I took three running steps, and jumped onto its back, landed across it's shoulders behind that hood-thing and drove my sword down into the back of its neck. It reared up, trumpeted in pain— and Linnea rammed her halberd into the thing's much softer underside, drove in and up with all the power in her Slayer-ized body, and braced the butt of her halberd on the floor with her foot. The crossbar just below the halberd's sixteen-inch-long blade stopped the thing from going down too far, and it writhed and roared in pain even as I slammed my sword down into the top of its head, drove it through the braincase— and finally killed the damned thing.

We didn't waste time, just turned toward the Bergner's court and the three remaining H'lkordak there, one of whom was about to die, even if it didn't know it. Somehow, Elise Morgan, stuck on crutches due to a spinal injury, had gotten under one of the H'lkordak— and driven both of her crutches, tipped with retractable, spring-driven spikes of silver, into its gut. It writhed above her, trying to get away from the pain, and Jenna, Elise's assigned partner for this, was smashing the thing's head to bits with a silver-headed mace.

Linnea added her halberd to the mix, and I added my blade, and the thing died, finally. Jenna jerked Elise out by the arm just before it would have collapsed on top of her, and we four turned to the other two, just in time to see one go down under the combined assault of Buffy, Chelsea— god, that girl had gotten nimble, she was dancing around and cutting the H'lkordak repeatedly with a silver-bladed gladius, distracting it so much that the others had lots of free shots— Elaine and Delia, the four of whom were making meat out of it.

We went past them to the last and by far largest one, surrounded by Bree, Sara, Vivian, Felicia, Helena, Abelena and Tracy— and looking like a freaking pincushion for the number of arrows sticking out of it. Even as we arrived, lit into it, it sprouted three more arrows, all at the base of the head, so fast it looked almost like a single shot. It opened its mouth to roar in pain— and the top of its head exploded as Vincent, shooting from inside a store, got a lucky shot in, punched through the roof of the mouth and up into the brainpan.

Then all that we had to do was get out past a screaming, hysterical crowd.

I didn't see Willow or any of the others— though I saw magic wards in three places, set to pin the H'lkordak in this court, and I knew that Sh'rin and Sunrise had done their part.

Whitey appeared then, smaller than all our other guys, so recognizable (of those here, only Xander and Ballard could easily be mistaken for each other, dressed as we were— they were of a size), and started bellowing orders. People listened— Whitey has "command presence"— and soon we had a fairly organized evacuation going.

Willow appeared then, coming up from underground, where the H'lkordak had come through, and gave Buffy a nod— she'd stopped a _bunch_ more from coming through, then closed the tunnels the demons had made, I found out later— then called us all together telepathically. We ditched into a service corridor, and Willow made us all "unnoticed" before we went back out and joined in the now-police controlled evacuation.

Then… we worked more. We started out by losing the jackets and masks, then having Wil remove the "unnoticed" spell, then started working at helping the cops with the evacuation, Vincent and Whitey moving among the injured and doing some triage, the rest of us just making sure no one had been injured and failed to notice it (that can happen), talking to people, generally trying to keep things calm.

I'd moved out to the fringes of the crowd, trying to make sure that everyone was with someone else, no people standing alone, when I saw the news van from channel forty-three, the local TV station— and yet no reporters, no cameras, nothing. My hackles went up, and I moved that way quickly and as unobtrusively as possible.

I opened the back door of the van and looked into a bloodbath.

"Shit!" I said— and closed the door on the five dead bodies in the van. I concentrated mightily, gave a mental shout for Willow.

_What's wrong, Rose?_ Willow asked telepathically.

_There are vampires here, working the crowd, I think,_ I sent to her. _Five dead reporters in the van from channel forty-three, all bitten— couldn't tell if they'd been turned. Tell the others, and make sure anyone not armed gets that way— fast!_

_On it, good job,_ Willow said.

About a minute later, Willow sent to me again. _Rose, Buffy wants you to meet Chelsea near the northernmost police car, and you two to start a patrol around the edge of the crowd, her looking out, you looking in. Spot a vampire, sing out. If he's in deep in the crowd, you don't go in after him, you let one of the others handle it. If he's in the outer ring, he's yours_.

_On it, tell Chelsea I'm on my way,_ I sent.

Two minutes later, tiny little Chelsea Yoder— who wasn't so tiny anymore, she was only a half an inch shorter than me, dammit!— and I started walking the perimeter of the crowds, holding hands and talking like sisters. We watched the crowd and the area around the crowd, and I spotted seven vampires, while Chelsea spotted five more outside the crowd.

"Judas goat on a pogo stick," I muttered, after having stepped two people in to stake a vamp and then darted back out before I was noticed. "God damned blood-sucking parasites!"

"Yeah, they're scum," Chelsea said. "Rose… we're right next door to St. Joseph's Hospital— shouldn't we send people over there?"

"Holy— kiddo, you're on the ball," I said. "Your idea— you call Wil, tell her to pass it on."

Flushing with pride, Chelsea did as I asked, and a moment later I saw Vincent, done with his triage-work, Jenna and Elaine start for the Saint Joe's parking lot. They found and killed a half a dozen vamps over there.

Graham and his men arrived, and they must have had some impressive ID or something— the cops cooperated fully with them, and pretty soon things were ticking along like a fine Swiss watch. We were able to go home about nine, and we felt good about doing as much good as we had… but a total of eighteen people had died from the H'lkordak attack, and at least another ten from the vampires in the crowd afterwards. It was a clear win, when you think about how bad it could have been, if Graham's people hadn't seen this and he hadn't warned us, but still… probably thirty people dead. Sobering thought.

Amy Madison and her pet Slayer had racked up one hell of a score in the "you have much to answer for" column.

I wanted them both dead so badly that I could taste it— and Willow was worse than I was. After Kennedy… who could blame her?

We got home at about nine-thirty, let Dad debrief us, got handed a great deal of praise (and admonishments not to blame ourselves for those we couldn't save), and went to bed. Dad declared the "sleep alone on school nights" rule suspended, and Elaine and I went to bed, made frantic, almost furious love, and fell asleep _able_ to sleep.

I taught my morning kung fu class in the basement, came up, showered, and went to breakfast— where I made a discovery that I could have done without. The headlines in the Pantagraph the next morning were the sort you both want to see— and don't want to see.

MYSTERY GIRLS BATTLE MONSTERS IN MALL! the headline screamed.

"Oh, crap," I said, on seeing that one when I glanced over to the nook where Dad, Mom, Whitey and Chantelle were eating, while Jocelyn lay in a baby rocker and listened as Whitey read her a news story about police in Peoria investigating a robbery. "Headlines— yay, but not yay."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Chantelle said. "Giles, lift the paper a little, would you?"

Dad obliged her, and the paper hung flat, allowing me to see the huge, full-color photo on the front page— taken by somebody inside Spencer's, I guess— of the H'lkordak Linnea and I had killed (with Ballard's help) reared up, Linnea in front of it, back to the camera, bracing the halberd she'd buried in its guts, me sitting on its neck about to drive my sword down into the damned thing's head.

"Crap on a popsicle stick," I said weakly, dropping to a chair.

"It's hardly a catastrophe, Rose," Dad said. "You were masked. And the photo is rather grainy. Graham called already, assured me that there's no way to legally ID you from the photo, Rose— nothing that would stand up in court, he meant."

"Small bonus, then," I said. "But… Dad, I may get asked questions at school. I saw people out at the mall after it was over, people I know— I can't just say I wasn't there."

"Do the best you can, Rose," Dad said. He smiled at me, then, and added, "Buffy's identity was… compromised fairly early on, really. Yet a great many people failed to talk about it, simply from gratitude. You'll be fine, I'm sure."

I read the story when a paper was available (and while munching on a Xander-made omelet), and found that the writer had learned a lot— more than I liked. He had good numbers, for one thing. "At least eighteen young women and four men were involved in preventing a greater loss of life than was experienced." He'd even gotten an accurate translation of the Chinese character on our jackets, too, the one that meant "demon hunter." Crap.

I went to school, riding with Lydia, this time (she'd stayed the night with Willow), and I knew things were going to be pretty much okay when Paul McDonald, a senior I knew from Computer Science II, passed by my locker while I was grabbing my books, stopped, and said quietly, "My little brother and my folks were at the mall last night, Rose. Thanks. They came out okay— so thanks."

I looked around at him, smiling a little, and said, "Well, I didn't do anything, Paul— but if I had, I'm sure I'd say, 'you're more than welcome,' because I'm pretty sure that I'd feel pretty good about saving as many people as I would have been part of saving."

"Gotcha," Paul said, and grinned at me. "I'll pass the word. Lots of people would say thank you— you know, if you'd been part of that whole mess."

So that day, I got a lot of silent, respectful nods— and a few people who came up and told me how grateful they would have been, if I'd actually been there the night before and fought monsters.

By the time my last class let out, I felt like about nine billion dollars.

At least, until I walked outside. Soon as I came out to run down to Sifu Archer's for my kung fu class, a fortyish guy in slacks, a button-down shirt (tieless) and a trench coat stepped away from the wall of the building and said, "Excuse me, Miss Killian? I'm Scott Walker from the Pantagraph. Could I ask you a few questions?"

"Sorry, I'm due at a kung fu class," I said, turning towards the street.

"I can give you a ride," Walker said.

"Sorry— even kung fu instructors don't take rides from strangers," I said— and took off running to get to class.

He showed up to watch the class, took notes, asked about taking pictures, got told no— Sifu couldn't let pics be taken without parental permission— so spoke to Sifu for a few minutes.

When I came out after showering, he was talking to Elaine, who was shaking her head repeatedly.

"No, sorry, I took karate for a while, but I dropped out," Elaine said. "I'm no fighter. I'm a dancer."

"Mister Walker," I said as I came out, "I guess I'm going to have to get rude with you. Didn't want to, not my style— but you don't seem to want to let this go.

"Leave me alone. Leave my friends alone. Leave my family alone. Please."

"Do you know how many weird things have happened in this town since October?" Walker asked. "Maybe even before then? I feel like I'm living the X-Files, here, Miss Killian— and I want to know why, to know _how_. I want to tell other people, because sometimes, just knowing what's going on can make you feel safer.

"Fact; you killed six orcs in your school in October— a hell of a feat, even for a ranked kung fu instructor.

"Fact; three people swear they saw you at your school early the next morning, the morning that something that was probably a minotaur from a Dungeons and Dragons game killed a janitor at your school. Three minotaurs and a medusa ended up dead— and their bodies vanished.

"Fact; your school gym gets blown up by what may well have been a dragon, which, while I can't prove you were around for, I think was something you helped with, probably in order to make sure no one got hurt.

"Fact; Five days ago, ISU student Candidia Foster and her roommate Holly Jones were attacked on the ISU campus by what they swear— believably— was a trio of vampires. They were rescued by a trio consisting of one tall, slender blond girl with a spear, a black haired man with an eye patch and a wooden stake in each hand… and a quote, 'tiny little redheaded girl with a sword,' end quote.

"Fact; last night, twenty-plus people kept a whole bunch of people from dying under the claws and teeth of a bunch of freaky monsters, and the one good picture we have from that fight is of a tiny little girl with a sword, masked— but with her _green eyes_ and her _red eyebrows_ showing, and a few freckles visible across the bridge of her nose— stabbing one of those monsters through the head with the aforementioned sword.

"I think you're the element that links all of these facts, Miss Killian— so I'm not going to let this go. Not until I can tell people what's going on, what they need to be frightened of— and who's protecting them as best they can, and why."

"Well, I can't help you," I said. "Sorry— and good night."

We went home, me with a rumbling tummy and a bit of a grumpy mood on.

I didn't talk about it over dinner, but I did tell Mom, Dad, Whitey, Buffy and Xander about it after dinner.

"All right, we'll add masks to the patrol outfits," Dad said. "For the moment, that's the best we can do."

"Okay, that's an idea," I said. "What are the teams going to be tonight?

"You are off duty," Dad said. "All of you in Thomas's game have tonight off, and tomorrow, we'll let the others have the night off. Go. Pretend to be a super hero for a few hours— the real thing can wait until tomorrow."

"Yeah, but—"

"All work and no play makes Rose a grumpy girl," Mom said. She pointed at the door out of the study. "Go. Game!"

I went and I gamed— and it really did do me some good to just pretend to fight the bad guys for a night, instead of doing it for real.

But I didn't stop worrying about Scott Walker, how much he knew and had guessed.


	71. Chapter 71

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 71

_Elaine:_

Friday night, when Rose and I came out of the library, Graham Miller was sitting in the living room, talking to Buffy, Giles and Kelly, scratching Abe's head while the dog looked at him adoringly— he obviously had the doggy touch.

"Hey, Graham," Rose said, as Glitter (draped around Rose's neck, as usual) raised her head and burbled at him. "Thanks for the warning and the backup last night."

"Never a problem," Graham said. "We owe you guys for stopping it. The seers said… well, the death toll would have gone way over a hundred, if not for Team Slayer."

Glitter dropped off of Rose's neck, went to sit on Graham's shoulder, making him chuckle. "You know, if you guys should ever run across a second pseudo dragon, I'd love a chance to make a friend out of her. Or him. One pseudo dragon in the world… just not enough.

"Hey, I came by to issue a couple of warnings, not just to pet Abe and say hi to Glitter.

"Willow… the army— regular army, not START, thank god— has decided that Vincent might still be alive. Worse, they think you're responsible. They've sent some of his fellow super soldiers out to find you, make you tell where he is."

"Oh, crud," Willow said with a sigh. She dropped on the loveseat, pulling Lydia down with her. "So… what do I do now?"

"Well, it's a funny thing," Graham said, grinning a wicked grin. "My bosses at START, they seriously disapprove of Operation: Superiority— that's the name of the project that created Vincent and his… I hate to say brothers, he's nothing like them."

"Later versions, Whitey called them," Xander said. "Connected to him, but not the same as him."

"That works, yeah," Graham said. "Anyway, my bosses hate those guys— they learned their lesson with Maggie Walsh's three-fourteen disaster. So… we, uh, very much accidentally had a hacking accident. Basically, any request for information on Willow, or pictures of her— even driver's license stuff— comes back blank unless it's made from a computer that's part of a law enforcement network, which the army's computers very much are not. And… well, they asked me some questions, since it's known that I had contact with you back in Sunnydale. So I lied through my teeth."

Willow laughed aloud and said, "Okay, what did you lie about?"

"Oh, I told them that you could magically change your appearance, which you probably can do," Graham said. "But I also told them that you pretty regularly _do_ change your appearance. These idiots from Operation: Superiority, they bought it completely. They sent three of their operatives here to look for you because Buffy's here… but they probably won't find you, as they've been ordered to stay away from Buffy."

"Military stupid," Rose said, shaking her head. "How did we become a superpower again?"

Graham laughed, then looked serious again. "Okay, that's one," he said, reaching up to scratch Glitter's chin with the hand that wasn't scratching Abe's ears. "Here's two.

"Rose, Elaine… there's going to come a time soon when you're both going to be in deadly danger. And the only way to survive that danger is to do something before that danger. The thing before… I'm afraid it's pretty vague."

"So tell us," I said. "Maybe we can un-vague it. Or Willow or Xander can. Or somebody. Giles is a good bet."

"The seers said that when you're caught between wizards, the only way to survive later is for both of you to take both hits," Graham said. "Apparently the wizards themselves aren't much of a threat to you… but they can maybe make something that will be a threat to you later less of a threat."

"Ow, my head," Rose said, shaking hers vigorously. "Graham, was there logic in there somewhere?"

"Logic, from seers?" Graham said, chuckling. "Probably not, Rose."

"You girls remember that," Kelly said sternly. "If this can protect you later, you do as Graham says. START's seers have done right by us, so you do as he says."

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"We will, Mom," Rose said.

"Good timing, Graham," Buffy said. "These two are scheduled to patrol together tomorrow night, along with… Ballard? Or is it you, Xander?"

"Neither one," Xander said. "Whitey's back in the rotation, now— it's him."

"Okay, so… watch it, tomorrow night," Buffy said. "Take the hit, if you can— both hits, sorry— together."

"We got it," Rose said. "Wizards, now. Djinn. Vampires. Werewolves. Demons, many and sundry. Now? Wizards.

"Willow… when it comes time, give this Madison cow a shot from me, as well as one from Dawn, would you?"

"Okay," Willow said. "I can do that. Happily!"

We said our goodnights and went to bed, hearing Graham trying (futilely, it turned out) to resist the implacable combined force of Giles, Kelly, Buffy and Xander as they worked to convince him to stay the night here, instead of at a hotel.

Graham stayed, of course— there aren't a lot of people who can resist the combined force of personality of those four. In the morning, he asked to join Rose's Kung Fu class, and she said yes. He obviously had some experience with that art, but also obviously learned some new stuff. He also took delight in sparring Slayers, and for such a big, powerful man? Yeah, he's _fast!_ And limber. He did really well against us for a normal guy.

He took off after breakfast, with many a thank you, and Glitter wouldn't let him leave until she'd snuggled in his arms for a minute.

Rose spent the morning and afternoon working on a paper for school, wanting to have Sunday all to herself, so I snuck off with Sh'rin in the afternoon and made love with her while Sunrise ravaged Ballard's body. Rose came along and crawled in to snuggle with us for half an hour or so before supper.

After supper, Rose, Whitey and I took our assigned patrol sector from Giles and headed out. We had downtown Bloomington, which had become a pretty good draw for vampires, what with all the bars and stuff. We dusted a half a dozen vamps, killed the ugliest demon I'd seen yet— it looked like a baboon with a cat's head and a crazy-long tail, and all of its skin torn off, yuck— near an alley in the block between Jefferson and Monroe, and then we saw some sort of lightshow from up near the Law and Justice Center on Front Street.

"Okay, that looks abnormal," Whitey said. "Rose?"

"We go," she said. "And of course it's not Normal, Whitey— we're in Bloomington."

"More than a dozen active Slayers in the house and I have to get paired with one who thinks she's Jerry Seinfeld," Whitey complained.

"No, Tim Allen— he's much cooler," Rose said as we started south down Main, heading for Front Street.

The wasn't coming from the Law and Justice center after all, but from the top deck of the four story parking garage next to it.

"That's going to attract some attention, if it hasn't already," Rose said as we stopped across the street from the garage. "Masks on."

We all pulled on our stocking masks, and Rose led us across the street and up the corner stairwell to the top deck of the garage. There were four creatures up there, two humanoid demons with light blue skin, each in heavy black robes and headpieces that covered all but a strip across the eyes and carrying a short staff carved with runes, and two… whatsits. One of the things looked like an orangutan with bright green scales and a steroid addiction, the other more like a sort of evolved Allosaurus, with longer, muscular front arms, and colored a deeper green than the other demon. The bigger two, the more monstrous ones, were stalking around each other in the middle of the parking deck.

"Holy crap," Rose said. "Okay, this could be… awkward."

"Wait, I think the big ones may do each other in," I said. "Or at least one kill the other, and give us less to deal with."

"Point," Rose said. "Whitey, call for team three just in case, they've got the area by the Home Sweet Home Mission and Wood Hill, they can be here fast in case we need back up."

"On it," Whitey said, and pulled a cell phone out of his coat pocket.

While he called, Rose and I walked along one edge of the parking deck to a point about halfway between the two sets of demons, and watched as the two big ones worked up the nerve to go after each other.

When it happened, it happened fast. One second they're circling each other like a pair of pissed-off dogs, the next they're a roaring-growling-hissing ball of two-tone green fighting it out on the ground, each trying to get the other in a death grip or something.

This went on for maybe thirty seconds— and there came a monstrous double "crack" as each one broke something vital on the other. Seconds later, each of the big-and-nasties just… faded away.

The two humanoid demons stared at each other across the parking deck— and Rose spoke up.

"All right, you two— I don't know what's going on, but it stops now." Rose took a few steps out and I went with her. "You're not allowed to endanger humans around here— and you're doing exactly that."

"Be silent," the one at the south end of the parking deck said. "This is a matter of honor, human— and we will finish it here. Interfere at your peril."

"Pompous much?" Rose said. "Look, if you two want to kill each other, that's not an issue for me, but really— somewhere else, okay?"

"Rathgul may be an idiot, a liar and an honorless bastard," said the second demon, his voice as deep as the first one's, but with a faint trace of Russian accent to it, "but he spoke rightly, just this once.

"Rathgul… the duel of entwined fates?"

"As you wish, Gotqual," Rathgul said. "We are both properly equipped… and I will enjoy seeing you die twice!"

Rose stepped out again, ended up between the two of them, and said, "Okay, I hate to ruin your day, boys— but the Slayers say _stop!"_

Both demons raised their short staffs, and twin fireballs shot out of them, shooting towards my Rose, who started to dive aside— but I leaped forward, caught her, held her in place with me— and hoped I hadn't just messed up big time.

The twin balls of fire-like energy hit us— and I felt this awful, horrible sensation of being ripped in two, and then the two of me being ripped in two again, and then a sort of… I felt like I was seeing too much, too many of everything, from to many perspectives —

— and it ended. I was standing there, holding my Rose, both of us breathing hard, and her staring up at me in surprise.

"I almost messed it up," she said, understanding what I'd done. "Thanks, love."

"Anytime," I panted. "So… shall we make meat?"

"Okay," Rose said. We backed off from each other— just as the wizard-demon on the north end— Gotqual— screamed in pain as Whitey shoved a sword into his shoulder.

"NO!" Rathgul shouted. "YOU FOOL! This was an affair of HONOR!

"DIE, HUMAN!"

Rose moved that way in that near-blur of speed she could do when she had to, and I went the other way to help Whitey. I heard a racing motor and screaming tires even as I ran towards Whitey— and he clubbed the wizard-demon with the hilt of his sword, knocking him down even as a neat little sports car came to the top of ramp, slewed to a stop.

Rose dodged a spell bolt of some sort even as I turned her way, and she leaped into the air, spinning impossibly fast, arms crossed on her chest like a figure skater doing a big-finish jump. She passed over a second spell bolt and lashed out with one heel, cracked the demon sorcerer across the jaw and sent him to the ground.

Rose squared off against her target, who had already bounced to his feet, and I glanced back at Whitey, saw him casually kicking the one he'd knocked down in the head. No problems there, so I went closer to Rose and her fight.

She'd started moving around the slowly standing demon, and from the way she was moving, I knew that she was confident, but not cocky. Her stance showed caution, but no fear.

"Okay," Rose said, still moving around the demon. "Hard way or easy way— your choice. I've nailed you once, and my completely human friend has knocked your worst enemy down. So you have to decide now— is it worth it to die to continue your little feud here, or is it better to wait, let Got-gall back there recover, and face him honorably? Because if you'll do that, swear to do it somewhere well away from any and all humans who might get caught in the crossfire, this can end here and now.

"If not… well, I am a Slayer. You are a demon. You do the math."

"You… would let us go?" Rathgul asked slowly. "You would accept my oath?"

"You were about to kill someone over a breach of your version of honor," Rose said. "That tells me that you'll take an oath seriously. I'll accept your oath."

"An oath cannot be delivered while masked," Rathgul said. "Nor can it be delivered to one who is masked."

Rose pulled off her stocking mask and waited. The demon reached up to one side, unfastened something and let the cloth over its face drop, showing a prominent, jutting chin and a mouth full of sharply pointed teeth.

"I am Rathgul of the Chodankar," it said. "I do swear that if I am allowed to take my enemy and leave this place without further molestation, I will not again duel with Gotqual in any locale where humans might be injured by the energies we wield."

"I accept your oath, and I swear that so long as your duel is furthered only where no human can be harmed, it will not again be interfered with by a Slayer," Rose said, her eyes lighting up with delight at this formal wordplay that I thought (correctly) reminded her of her days of playing Dungeons and Dragons (in a good way, I mean, not a monsters-in-my-school way). "So… you'd better go before the authorities arrive."

"Honor in a human," Rathgul said as he refastened his lower face mask. "Who among my kind would have guessed?"

He went to the place where Gotqual sprawled on the concrete, picked the other wizard-demon up in a fireman's carry, and straightened.

"Rathgul… what was it that hit my love and I, anyway?" Rose asked.

Rathgul looked at Rose, cocked his head, and said, "Wonder."

Then he and his enemy vanished in a flash of light.

"Asshole!" Rose said, and started pulling her mask back on.

And that's when I was forced to remember what I'd forgotten, what Rose, Whitey and I had all forgotten.

"So… what's a Slayer?" Scott Walker asked from where he stood leaning comfortably against the side of the little sports car that had arrived just before Rose knocked Rathgul down. "And while I'm at it… where did those demons go? And what did he do to you and your girlfriend?

"Oh, and Miss Killian?

"Gotcha!"

Not a good way to end a night's patrol, you know?

_Interlude:_

Amy Madison looked over the car that she'd bought for Claudia to use on her little mission, decided that she'd never seen such a nondescript car in her entire life, and smiled. The silvery-gray 1996 Ford Taurus was slightly dusty, a little beat up inside, but it ran like a top, after Amy had gotten done with it. In addition, the trunk was now completely soundproofed— that would be important.

"Okay," Amy said. "You've got plenty of CDs to keep you going, and plenty of money, right?"

"I've got ten grand," Claudia said. "Plus one of my alternate sets of ID— Claudia Johnson, age eighteen, no priors, no tickets, and full-coverage insurance."

"Smooth," Amy said. "You're a natural at this sort of thing. I suppose if living the high life bores you, later, you can make a fortune selling your services as a spy."

"I could, yeah," Claudia said. "But really? I'd rather turn a buck and keep my edge playing assassin-for-hire. Or even just for fun."

"Well, we could probably start killing off other Slayers," Amy said. "Unless, of course, you can convince them to join up with us. Then you could have your own little mercenary army, sweetie."

"Ooo, you're making me all hot!" Claudia said, flowing into Amy's arms for a kiss. "And right when I have to leave. Evil bitch."

"The evilest," Amy said, grabbing Claudia's ass and squeezing. "Damn, I wish I could come with you— but the power circle needs twice-daily attention, now, if I'm going to have everything ready on time. And the day is key, Claudia."

"Yeah, it makes sense, even," Claudia said. "I mean— when better to do something like that than on the shortest day of the year?"

"I prefer to think of it as the longest night of the year," Amy said with a smile. "December twenty-second, Claudia… sixteen days away.

"That's when Willow and her little friends get what they've got coming to them."

"Sweet," Claudia said. "So… I'd better get on the road. Idaho's a long ways off." She shook her lead, looked amused and a little disgusted. "Elmira, Idaho. Who in the hell names a town Elmira?"

"Sick people," Amy said. "Very sick people.

"You have the address and the picture?"

"In my bag, yeah," Claudia said. "Charity Smith, age nine, I remember. And I have the pic. Cute kid— shame she's gotta die."

"Do you really think so?" Amy asked, cocking her head.

"Not a big shame," Claudia said. "But yeah, a shame— she might have grown up to be incredibly hot— her older sisters did!— and we could have got her in bed with us."

"Oh, there are plenty of girls for us to share," Amy said. "Most of your hookers seem more than willing to sleep with the boss. The little Japanese hottie from last night— well, I want us to share her again when you get home."

"You can have company while I'm gone, you know," Claudia said.

"No, it's just not as good without you there, too," Amy said, and kissed Claudia deeply. "Now go— so you can get back faster."

"All right, Amy," Claudia said. She smiled up at the older girl and said, "Don't worry— I'll get you the sacrifice you need."

"I know you will," Amy said, stepping back. "You're the best, Claudia."

Claudia grinned, threw Amy a kiss, got in the car, and went to kidnap the sacrifice they'd need for the last stage of Amy's plan to kill Willow Rosenberg and everyone that the witch had ever cared about.

"This is gonna be such a blast," Claudia said as she plugged a CD into the stereo. "I'm gonna get to kill a bunch of people, raise a little hell, and then go off and be a rich brat with Amy.

"_Such_ a blast!"

She headed for I-74 West, Idaho, a kidnapping and a mass murder with a smile on her face, singing along with Green Day as she drove.


	72. Chapter 72

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 72

_Rose:_

Oh, shit. Busted.

"Mister Walker," I said slowly, "you're asking me to tell you secrets that aren't mine— and that could cause a panic that could spread the world around if you print them, and manage to convince people that they're true.

"Do you really want to be responsible for something like that?"

Walker looked at me for a long moment, the said, "I think you're serious."

"I am," I said.

"All right," he said. "Counter offer.

"Tell _me_. Let _me_ know. Show me why this would cause a panic. If I agree with you… well, I'll find something to tell people that will get them off the streets. That will… save lives."

I thought about it— and I was still thinking when the door to the stairwell opened, and out came Sunrise, Jenna and Bree.

"Rose, is it under control?" Jenna called, she being in charge of that team.

"We've got it, yeah," I said. "Sorry to pull you out. I managed a détente."

"It's cool," Jenna said. "Wood Hill is quiet tonight, and I guess nothing has a taste for wino tonight— the Mission is quiet, too."

"Okay, that's something," I said. "Jenna, you guys can go back to patrol. Shout if you need a hand, we're here."

"Betcha," Jenna said. "All right, ladies— let's take walk under the bridge, see if anything's down there on the way back."

They left, Sunrise giving me a curious-worried glance as she went— everyone noticed how I didn't introduce Scott Walker, or mention him.

"Okay, Mr. Walker," I said. "How about you come with us while we patrol tonight? We'll go until about three, since we've got all the bars. You come with us, you see for yourself what we're doing… and you think about it, talk to me tomorrow."

"Deal," Walker said. "Call me Scott."

"All right, Scott," I said. "You've met Elaine, and I'll bet the mask didn't fool you."

"No, she walks across a room— or a parking deck— she's identifiable," Walker agreed. "Lady, when you said you were a dancer, you weren't kidding."

"I'm Whitey," Whitey said, taking off his mask. "Don't ask— it's short for something abominable."

"Got it," Scott said. "So… what now?"

"Go park," I said. "Meet us downstairs. Then… we go back to doing what we're here for, and you get to watch— if you'll agree to certain rules."

"Wait, what rules?" Scott asked.

"Pretty simple," I said. "You don't try to help, you stay out of the way— and if we start running away, you do your damnedest to outrun us."

"Oh, okay," he said, relaxing. "Young lady, I just saw you do an impossible martial arts kick and knock down some sort of spell-casting demon. Believe me, if you take off running, I'm going to show you why I won medals for track all through high school and college!"

"Okay, you do that," I said, chuckling. "Meet you downstairs."

So he followed us— and the fates were kind (after a fashion). Scott Walker watched us take on another eight vampires in three groups, then something that Whitey identified as a Thunir demon, a big old sucker that looked sort of like the comic book version of the Hulk, if the Hulk was neon purple and had gazelle-like horns sprouting from his forehead. Apparently, it had a taste for whatever it is that they make billiard balls out of. We found it munching contentedly on the balls in a bar downtown— and standing on the bodies of two dead men who had been playing pool when it showed up.

We took it down, but the damn thing turned out to be a tough fight. If not for Elaine driving it half-crazy by dancing around it Capoeira-style, distracting it hugely by entering crazy-dancer-dodge mode, Whitey and I would never have nailed it. As it was, we got it— Whitey managed to get his sword lodged in the thing's kidney area, and I managed to land a kick on the hilt, driving it in all the way and killing the big brute.

After that, it stayed mostly quiet… if you don't count the very confused half-elven-wizard hottie who managed to put her (human, dammit!) attackers on the ground after three drunken frat boys decided they wanted to rape her. She was a lot kinder than I would have been— she got them off of her with a shocking grasp spell, then hit them with a sleep spell.

She cast a comprehend languages spell when she realized that we had no intention of hurting her, and we actually talked. Her name was Jillona, and she came from a world that sounded very much like my familiar Dungeons and Dragons world, and had come here by accident, while using a dimension door spell to escape a trio of shambling mounds— big, ugly plant critters that eat anything, up to and including half-elven wizards.

"I think I can get back," she said. "And I will— as soon as my familiar returns. He took off when I arrived, though I don't know why. I can feel him, still, but he is some distance off. Once he is returned, I can use a scroll of dimension door to return, I'm sure. The dimensional array is… fluid, yes, but I can stabilize it, and track on my husband to go home. I will be fine. If you people have work yet to do, I would not have you forsake it to watch over me. I can take care of myself, and without harming those you defend— I have always preferred non-lethal spells."

I wasn't sure about the idea— but we heard a girl scream from down near the Lucca Grill, and had to let Jillona have her way to go and off a pair of vampires that had decided to dine on diners who'd just dined on Italian.

We offed the vampires and started back to Jillona, only to see, from a block away or so, the half-elven woman step into a big glowing doorway that appeared in the air, something silvery standing on her shoulder as she stepped through and vanished.

"Damn," Scott said, staring at the glowing afterimage of the door. "That was just… cool!"

We patrolled until three, getting two more vampires and a drunken Sl'toth demon (eats human brains— nasty!) before wrapping it up and calling it a night.

"Okay," Scott said as we went back to the sedan, parked in the same garage as Scott's car. "I'll sleep on this, and we'll talk tomorrow. I won't publish anything until we've talked.

"After lunch sound good?"

"Around one, yeah," I said. "Goodnight, Scott."

We went home, and I felt too tired to be horny— that's _tired!_ Didn't get to sleep right away, though— Dad was up, and I had to tell him about Scott and what I'd done about him.

"You did the only thing you could," Dad said. "It will work out, Rose. He seems a decent man.

"Now, I think you should get to bed. Good night, Rose."

Dad hugged me, and I went upstairs— where Glitter met me in the hall, and flew into the kitchenette up there, stood looking hopefully back and forth between me and the fridge.

"Hungry dragon, huh?" I said. "Well, okay. But then I've got to get some sleep."

I opened the fridge door, and Glitter pulled out a half a pound of summer sausage immediately, grabbing it in her teeth and pulling it out. Then she reached back in and grabbed an apple, and finally, a small wedge of sharp cheddar. Then she nudged the door shut while I stood staring at her.

"Wow, you are hungry!" I said, watching with amusement as she stripped the foil off of the summer sausage log by gripping an edge in her teeth and flipping it. "Well, you come to bed after you've eaten, okay, sweetie?"

Glitter burbled assent, head-bumped my ankle, and started munching summer sausage.

I went and laid down with Elaine, and was asleep long before Glitter came in and curled up on my hip.

I got up at nine in the morning, showered, and went downstairs. Mom had my breakfast ready, and was laughing and making a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon for Glitter only a moment later, as my little friend came in and hovered behind Mom's shoulder, making a hungry burbling noise.

"Yes, Glitter, I'll make you some," Mom said. "You're awfully hungry today— usually you only eat whatever you can beg. Your little hunt must have been a flop, I guess."

"Hunt?" I said after swallowing a bite of omelet.

"Oh, you want cheese?" Mom said, laughing harder as Glitter landed on the counted and picked up a bag of pepper jack in her jaws, wagged it at Mom. "All right, Glitter.

"Yes, she went out for a while last night— stayed out longer than usual, I don't think she's used to hunting in winter. But given how hungry she is, I think she didn't get anything. A shame— the rats have been almost nonexistent here, and I think that's partly her— Vincent's found her leavings a time or two."

"That's my girl," I said, grinning. "All around useful."

"And cute," Mom said, setting a plate of food down for Glitter. "And hungry."

After breakfast, I found Buffy and Xander talking to Willow and Lydia, told them about Scott Walker and the deal I'd made with him. Buffy said I'd done the right thing, and asked if she could join us when I talked to him.

"I was hoping you'd offer," I said, sighing with relief. "You and Dad both, and… well, anyone else who wants to, I think."

"I'll put the question to everyone," Buffy said. "We'll make it work, Rose."

I said thanks, and went off to goof off.

When I came down for lunch (after making love with Elaine, Sh'rin and Sunrise, and snuggling and petting with Ballard), Lydia looked up from where she was sitting and watching TV with Wil and said, "Your dragon has flipped her wig."

"She's started wearing a wig?" I said, grinning. "Hmm, maybe you're right."

"Good grief," Lydia said. "Okay, let me rephrase; she's acting weird."

"What did she do now, steal your breakfast?" I asked.

"No, the newspaper," Lydia said. "Part of it, anyway. I set a section I was done with down on the table, here, and she dragged it into the library.

"I know she approves of being read to, but I wasn't aware that she'd started reading herself, or that she thought it had to be done in the library."

"That's my girl," I said. "Always full of surprises. I'll see what she's up to— maybe she's decided that the funnies are cool."

I walked into the library, but I didn't see Glitter. I whistled her name in her language— as close as I can get, anyway— and heard an answering burble from way in the back of the room. I went to the back corner, saw her lift her head from up on the top shelf back there, then lay it back down.

"Did you overeat, sweetie?" I asked, wheeling a library ladder over and starting up. "Or did you— what the heck?"

Glitter was lying on a pile of shredded newspaper on the empty end of the top shelf, curled into a neat little ball. She lifted her head when I looked at her— and I saw something under her.

I meeped.

"Oh, Glitter!" I said. "Honey, _how?"_

Images filled my mind for a minute or so, and I felt… so mind-bogglingly happy-stunned that I think I almost fell off of the ladder.

"Sweetie, can the others see?" I asked. "Or do you need privacy?"

She lifted her head nodded a little, then held up a claw with one digit extended.

"One at a time?" I asked, and Glitter nodded. "Okay… sweet little dragon, this is so cool!"

I kissed her on the head, leaped off the ladder, and ran to find Elaine. She was just coming downstairs, and I grabbed her and pulled her to the library while she laughed and asked what had gotten into me.

I got her to the bottom of the ladder, said, "Go— look!"

A minute later, Elaine came down with a stunned grin on her face, and asked, "How?"

"I'll tell everyone later," I said. "After everyone's had a look. No telling anyone what I want them to see, now!"

"My lips are sealed," she said.

I went and got Mom, pulled her in, and, since we're both slender, went up the ladder with her. She looked at Glitter, said, "Little girl, you look tired. Are you— oh!" Glitter lifted her head, and mom saw what I'd seen, what I'd shown Elaine and now her.

A speckled brown egg, a little smaller than a chicken egg!

"Oh, Glitter, that's— sweetie, congratulations!" Mom said. "How many, dear?"

Glitter nudged Mom's cheek six times.

"Six?" Mom said. "No wonder you were hungry— and less wonder you look tired!

"Little dragon, you call any of us when you need food, and we'll bring it to you, okay?"

Glitter burbled a thank you, and Mom went down and got Dad, who was just as delighted as the rest of us.

One by one, I showed everyone— and over lunch, I explained the how.

"A half-elven wizard got brought through by some sort of dimensional screw-up, last night," I said between bites of Xander's slightly radioactive chili. "She had some problems with drunken frat assholes, ended them herself— much less violently than I would have— and talked to us, thanks to a comprehend languages spell. She felt sure she could get home herself, but was waiting for her familiar to come back— he flew off as soon as they got here, and she couldn't leave without him.

"Her familiar… was a pseudo dragon."

"That's why she was so insistent about going out last night!" Willow said. "She was in heat, and heard or felt the presence of another pseudo dragon!"

"Baby pseudo dragons!" Delia said, a huge, sweet smile on her face. "Oh, I hope one likes me, wants to be with me like Glitter wants to be with Rose!"

"Have you any idea how long before they hatch?" Dad asked.

"Only a vague one," I said. "Glitter wasn't real sure herself— I think she thinks about a week."

"A week?" Dad said, surprised. "That's awfully rapid, Rose. Chickens usually take three weeks, and they aren't nearly so complex or intelligent as Glitter and her species."

"Yeah, but Dad, pseudo dragons are so prized as familiars because they are very magical creatures," I said. I grinned and said, "And once magic enters the equation, logic leaves the building."

"I see your point, yes," Dad said. "Well, we shall simply have to cater to her needs and wait— but I must admit, this is a pleasant surprise."

I grinned, nodded, and finished my lunch.

Scott Walker showed up at a little after one, and he had a speculative grin on his face.

"I think I've hit on a way to get the news out there that might satisfy everyone and not cause a panic," he said without preamble (but after introductions). "If I might use a computer?"

We let him use the computer in the study, and he got online, typed in the address bar for a minute, and showed a website called "Bloomington-(Ab)Normal!" The site was a combination forum and multi-person blog, and it was all about the weirdness that was going on here in town— had, in fact, been started the day that me and the others fought the minotaurs and the medusa at my school.

"This site is full of speculation, most of it off base," Scott said. "So what I've done is joined up, linked a second site from my profile and signature, and started blogging myself— using what I learned last night, and hopefully adding what I learn as time goes by."

He clicked on a link on that page, and a second page opened up, labeled in big letters, "Normal Ain't What It Used to Be!"

"This lets the people who really want to know what's going on, who are making an effort to find out, see the truth, as best as I can tell it," Scott said. "And it should keep a panic from starting, because I'm also telling people that while things are crazy… there are people helping. People who understand what's going on, who know how to fight it… and who are willing to fight it.

"You help me with this, help me warn the people who are willing to look for the truth, help me get the information out for those who truly want it… and I'll do my best to keep things out of the papers. Not just my things, there are other reporters on this.

"What do you say?"

We all looked at Giles, who sighed, took off his glasses, and said, "Well, this goes rather against the grain— Watchers are trained to secrecy, after all— but I agree, Mr. Walker. This is an acceptable compromise, and it may well do some good.

"Now, can you add a few email addresses, where people might report things that escape the public notice?

"Rose, could you perhaps get Brian to figure out a way to post his monster database as a website?"

I grinned and said, "Let me call him!"

Brian came over with Kimber a half an hour later, and I showed them Glitter's clutch of eggs before I took them in to talk with Giles, Scott, Willow and Sunrise, who were all working on details of the proposed website that would link from Scott's blog.

By dinner— for which Scott, Brian and Kimber all stayed— the site was working, and people could find a lot of information on how to make themselves safe, and who to tell about monsters.

After dinner, I decided to do something to pay back Graham for warning us about all the things he had, and I asked Buffy about my idea, got her approval and Mom's then called Graham on the cell phone number he'd left us.

"This is Graham, is everything all right down there?" he said on answering his phone.

"It's okay, yeah," I said. "This is Rose, Graham— and I'm calling with good news, not bad."

"That's a nice change," he said, audibly relaxing. "What's up, Rose?"

"Well, first off, Elaine and I have been through whatever it was that your seers told us to take on the chin, and we survived," I said. "It felt really weird, but we're okay. I hope they're right, and it helps later."

"That's good," Graham said. " 'First off' implies that there's more, though."

"More, yeah, and still in the good column," I said. "Graham, last night, after the whatsit that Elaine and I got hit with, we ran into a half-elven wizard right out of a D&D world— she was a nice lady, and she didn't hurt anybody while she was here. In fact, she left on her own, as soon as her familiar, who took off when they arrived, came back. And her familiar— the little guy must have had one hell of a nose, because he smelled the in-heat-pheromones of the only other member of his species on this planet from about four miles away, and flew off to take care of business."

"I don't think I… wait hold on!" Graham said, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning. " 'In heat'… 'only other member of his species on this planet'… Rose, are you saying Glitter's pregnant!"

"I don't think that's the right term, but I don't know the right term," I admitted. "She's laid eggs, Graham— six of them. She thinks they'll hatch in about a week. I thought you might want to come up and see the babies, after they're born."

"Oh, hell, yes!" Graham said, laughing. "Think Buffy and Giles will mind if I come down and crash for a night or two after they hatch?"

"I already asked Buffy and Mom, and they said to tell you that there's a choice of guest room or guest house," I said. "They have Dad thoroughly in hand, between them, so consider it approved.

"I'll call you once they've hatched— if you've got a day or two of leave time, take it, plan on staying a bit."

"Actually, I will have," Graham said. He let out a sigh, said, "Most of the unit is getting the week of the fourteenth through the twentieth off— because none of us are getting Christmas off. The seers have seen 'something big and bad' coming sometime between the twenty-first and New Year's Day."

" 'Something big and bad,' huh?" I said. "Maybe you should ask them if they could vague that up for you some."

"Yeah, well, they do their best," Graham said. "So I'll come for a day or two on the fourteenth, how's that?"

"Um, hang on a second, I'll double-check," I said. I muted the phone, went to talk to Buffy and Mom for a minute, thanked them, and un-muted the phone. "Buffy says, and I quote, 'Unless you're going home for part of that leave, you can stay the whole time here— and you will, or I will kick your ass.' End quote. Mom concurs."

Graham laughed and said, "Okay, I'll figure on the week, then— my folks are going out of the country for Christmas, I don't want to do that.

"Hey, Rose… thanks."

"What are friends for?" I asked. "Believe me, after all the out-of-your-way you've gone for us, you're a friend."

I hung up and went to look in on Glitter and take her some food.

Despite all the badness, things were still capable of being miraculously good— and if a clutch of pseudo dragon eggs doesn't prove that, I don't know what does!


	73. Chapter 73

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 73

_Elaine:_

Oh, the universe loves us, even if it doesn't always show it!

Baby pseudo dragons! As many possible universes as Giles says there are, the odds against another pseudo dragon biologically compatible with Glitter showing up on a night when she was in season and the wind right to carry the scent to him are just freaking incalculable— but we were going to have baby pseudo dragons, and never mind the odds!

High monster content of our world and all, that was one seriously merry household for the next week!

Scott Walker's website… he had a counter on it, and he was getting hits by the hundreds, every single day. People sent queries to those who'd volunteered to answer emails, everything from questions about how to monster-proof your house to whether or not a sudden craving for spaghetti and meatballs with chocolate syrup on top might be a sign of demon possession. (Giles handled that one, said no, but that the lady in question might want to get tested for pregnancy.)

We worked our asses off that week, both at school and on patrol. Semester finals had arrived, and we school-age people had lots of studying to do on top of our Slaying duties. And poor Rose! We students of the Giles Academy for Education finished on the Wednesday the seventeenth of December, didn't have to go back until the fifth of January. But because of the whole "Dungeons and Dragons High" thing causing her school to close so much, Rose had to go until Monday the twenty-second of December.

But we did our jobs, insanely busy and all. We did the Slayer job, we did the homework job, we did Christmas shopping, we did… well, everything. Busy, busy, busy! (I got all A's that semester, too, go me!)

We did game Friday; we needed the release. Why is it that play violence makes you feel better after the pressures of real violence? It fails to make sense in my head, but it's still true.

Sunday the fourteenth, Graham showed up at about noon, with bags for a week's stay. He took the offer of the guest house, saying that having some solitude would be a great thing; for a man used to barracks living, I can certainly see why.

A few of us were sitting around playing euchre in the kitchen, me and Rose partnered against Graham and Thomas (who was becoming a bit of a fixture on weekends, not being married or having a lot of friends), when Rose suddenly sat bolt upright— and grinned.

"Okay, now, we can't go rushing in or anything, Glitter wants privacy… but the eggs are hatching!" She giggled in helpless delight and added, "God, she's so _happy!"_

After a minute or two of basking in dragon-delight, Rose got up and went to the intercom, hit the all-call and said, "Hi, everybody, it's Rose. Could everyone do Glitter a favor and stay out of the library for a while? Hatching has started, and she needs her privacy for a while. I get the impression that it won't be too long, but she does want to be left alone with the babies as they hatch."

Quiet cheers and affirmatives came from all over the house, and Rose sat back down to play cards. We slaughtered Graham and Thomas, and then they slaughtered us— they won the tie-breaker match, but at least that one was close. Then we had to move to let Kelly cook.

Kelly made Grandma Riley's fried chicken in a combination welcome for Graham and celebration of baby pseudo-dragons. After dinner, Rose took me by the hand and led me to the library, saying that Glitter had called near the end and said we could come see the babies, all hatched now, two at a time. Rose had decided that she was going to escort everyone, always be a part of the two.

We went up the ladder together, and looked with dropped-jaw delight.

There lay Glitter, curled out into a big hoop, head-on-tail, with six brightly colored little-bitty baby pseudo dragons crawling around in the loop, each a different color. The littlest (and cutest, to my mind) was a shocking shade of green, bright and vivid. Then there were four who were all about the same size, a bit bigger than the little one. One was a deep blue with a sort of a silver sheen to it, one a red-with-gold that didn't look too far from Glitter's own shade of red-gold, one a brilliant, gleaming gold— it looked like a gold charm of a dragon somehow animated. The last of the 'similar-size' bunch had scales of a rich, royal purple. And the biggest of them— at least thirty-five percent bigger than the others— looked all metallic as well, a brilliant, liquid silver.

"If you could die of cute, I'd need a burial," I said, grinning so big that it hurt. "Glitter, you have beautiful babies!"

She nuzzled my hand and burbled a tired-sounding thank you— apparently, even just hatching six babies is tiring.

The silver one came over to as near us as it could get, and stretched his neck over Glitter's, making a peeping noise so high-pitched that it could barely be heard. I got a sending from Glitter then, showing my hands and Rose's stroking his head— for I knew the silver one to be a boy, after the sending. Rose stroked his head with a single finger, and I ran a finger down his neck, rubbed lightly right between his wings, one of Glitter's favorite places to be rubbed. He liked it, I could feel his purr, even if I couldn't hear it.

After a minute or so of that, he went and laid down— and Rose sent me to get her mom and send her in.

We all saw the babies, and Glitter never got cranky or anything.

When Delia came out and sent Xander in, she looked around and said, "The little green one liked me! She came right over to me, practically climbed over Glitter to get me to pet her!"

"Good deal," Buffy said. "A houseful of pseudo dragons! I don't know what we're doing right, but for god's sake, let's keep it up!"

Graham insisted on going last, but he stayed in there a long time, and when he came out, he could _not_ stop smiling.

"The blue one did _not_ want to let me leave," Graham said. "He came over to be petted, and Glitter told me I could— and then every time I tried to leave, he tried to climb over her. I had to rub his head until he went to sleep."

Rose came out a few minutes later, grabbed some raw hamburger, some liver, some sliced American cheese and a couple of peaches, took it back in and left it. While in there that time, she also helped Glitter make a sort of playpen for the babies, something they couldn't get out of easily, if at all, and moved them all down to the floor in that same corner.

We then proceeded to have a small party, just because we all felt good. Glitter came out and joined us for a while, moving from person to person to be stroked and congratulated— and something unutterably cool (from my point of view, anyway) happened.

I was sitting and snuggling up to Sh'rin while Ballard and Sunrise danced, and Rose danced with Graham, and Glitter came over and landed on my shoulder. I reached up to pet her, and after a moment, she moved around a little and did something with me that she'd never done with any of us but Rose before then; she draped herself around my neck!

Sh'rin looked at Glitter, just as surprised as I felt, and smiled. "Don't look now, my Dancer," she said softly, "but I believe that you have been promoted!"

"Glitter… thank you, honey," I said softly. She tightened just a little in response, then relaxed again.

"Would you look at that," Rose said, smiling in delight when she came over to sit after finishing her dance with Graham. "Elaine, I think I'm going to be allowed to keep you."

I laughed, and Glitter burble-chuckled.

After that, there were two of us that Glitter would do the neck-drape thing— and I loved it.

Eventually, I found out why it happened, but I never actually asked— I just found out.

I thank the Powers for it still, and on a regular basis.

That was a tough week. Things got steadily worse, and people started doing something that worried the Sunnydale Five (Giles, Buffy, Xander, Willow and Sunrise), as they'd seen it before.

People started leaving town in large numbers. Some just started Christmas trips early, some just decided to take Christmas trips… but some moved, and moved permanently.

On the monster front, things got worse. More varieties of demon, more vampires than ever, more kinds of monsters. _Bigger_ demons and monsters.

Not good. Very bad.

Oh, there were happy moments, too. And surprises, mustn't forget those.

The first surprise was kind of a "Huh!" moment, but not in a bad way.

Thomas had started coming over in the evenings as well, and earned a welcome by demonstrating that he wasn't merely a cook, he was a freaking chef. He volunteered to cook one evening when Kelly, scheduled cook, felt poorly (morning sickness at a weird time— it happens, though we worried until the doctor said she was fine). Thomas proceeded to look through fridge and freezer, and start cooking, humming idly to himself as he did so.

I don't know if the dish he cooked has a name. I don't _care_. There were pork chops, there were sautéed onions and mushrooms that the chops were cooked in and with, there were twice baked potatoes with something added (cream cheese and fresh scallions, it turned out— yum!), peas and baby carrots in a lightly seasoned butter sauce, and this salad that— well, it was worthy of Sh'rin, acknowledged master of the salad! And he made his own dressing for it, which almost everyone liked; I know it had tomato juice, balsamic vinegar and olive oil, but I don't know what else went into it, just that there were a great many herbs.

I thought I had died and gone to gourmet heaven.

So anyway, he came over a lot, now. Not a problem, he was likeable, and god's own cook, and generally good to have around. Still… I was surprised.

The Wednesday that was the last day of school for almost all of us, things got shifted around a little, and we went to four person teams from necessity. Things were getting awfully tough for three people, is all. So that night, Buffy had said, "Four-person teams from now on. Tonight's Team One is the Chosen Couple plus Lydia and Xander. You guys get the easy one for once; Park Hill Cemetery and Miller Park. Should be quiet."

She jinxed us, I swear. "Should be quiet." Buffy might as well have said, "Go to hell. Go directly to hell. Do not pass heaven, do not collect absolution for your sins."

It started off pretty easy, sure. A gang of four vamps in the park, a single Kinatume demon in the swing set, possessing it, making it try to kill us. Easy kill, those— lay a cross on any part of what they're possessing, and they die— or go back to hell for a few hundred years, anyway. As demons go, they aren't even minor league— more like _little league_.

Then we crossed over to Park Hill— the cemetery where Rose and I met, where her dad is buried— and things got scary.

We felt badness as soon as we passed into the cemetery. Cold night, that night, about twenty degrees… outside the cemetery. Inside that hedges and walls it was more like forty. Ice had started melting, snow had that wet, heavy feel it gets when it goes above freezing… and we could hear something breathing. Something _big_.

Turned out to be a Felfinal demon, about thirty feet tall, strong as hell, faster than you'd ever expect, built like an Alien— you know from the Alien series of movies? Bug-like, but a quadruped, not a hexapod, with a tail that was long, prehensile and tipped with a hand that had four fingers, two opposable thumbs— and a hellish set of claws to match the ones on its hands and feet. Lucky for us, it lacked the acid blood of the critters from the movie.

We killed it, but it wasn't fun. In the end, I jumped on its back from the top of a crypt, and, while the others distracted it, drove a short sword into the place where neck and head joined. But that fight lasted longer than any I'd ever been in, and we all felt wiped when it was over. Xander called home, and Giles had Willow do a magical scan of the area, determine that it was all clear, and told us to come in. We went gratefully enough.

Once we were home and debriefed, Rose went to see Glitter and her brood— and found that the biggest one, the silver boy, had started flying!

We all went to see, and Silver (a nickname, he hadn't chosen a name of his own yet) took immense pride in flitting around from shoulder to shoulder, being petted and told he was a good dragon.

While the others were all laughing and petting him, Rose tugged me by the hand and said, "Graham's going to want to see this, and Dad said he went outside a few minutes ago— let's go get him."

We went to the French doors out onto the back patio, stepped outside— and Graham and Thomas were so completely lost in kissing each other that we thought they didn't even know we were there.

We went back in quietly, and I looked at Rose and said, "Wow."

"Yeah, wow," Rose agreed. "Thomas, gay-or-bi? Yoiks."

"What about Graham?" I said. "That didn't give you a 'yoiks,' Rose?"

"No, I pegged him as gay a while back," Rose said. "I figured he might not be comfortable with people knowing, and let it go."

"How did you…?" I asked.

"He looks at Riley looking at Sam, and he smiles— but you can see the sad underneath." Rose shrugged. "Unrequited love sucks— I'm glad he's found somebody."

"So am I," Graham said from by the doors, scaring me into jump-spin-land-in-ginga.

"Judas _goat!"_ Rose said, glaring at Graham and Thomas, who stood by the door holding hands. "Dammit, you guys! You scared us silly! Graham, it's not fair! Guys your size should _not_ be all stealthy!"

"Sorry," Graham said with a chuckle. He was grinning, and didn't look at all worried about anything, which made me feel pretty good. "But Rose, in our job, your options are stealthy or bloody. I opted for stealthy."

"Forgiven— this time," Rose said.

"Thanks," Graham said. "Hey, look— you don't have to worry, I'm out of the closet to my command— even to Riley. Our bosses don't know, but that's just… the army. Thomas and I aren't going to hide it, not here. Don't have to, here, which is very relaxing."

"Cool beans," Rose said. She looked at Thomas, said, "As for you, sir— mum's the word so far as I'm concerned."

"Thank you, Rose," Thomas said. "The staff knows, but I'd rather the other students didn't— with the exception of Brian Keller, I won't be worried if he finds out. He keeps his mouth shut about Slayers and such, I know he can be trusted with knowing I'm gay."

"I won't mention it, but it's nice not to have to hide it from him," Rose admitted. "Anyway— sorry we interrupted, but Silver's flying around, I thought Graham would want to see— and I'll bet you do, too, Thomas."

They very much did.

By Friday night's game, all of the babies had started flying, with Red being last, having just taken off that morning— and they were playing favorites, too, sticking with one human more than all the others. Oh, they were affectionate and friendly towards us all— but they played favorites, which, according to Glitter, was natural, and a sign of probable (though not certain) bonding as the babies grew.

So I was hugely flattered and more than a little excited when the girl-pseudo-dragon Goldie seemed to attach herself to me.

Greenie— the 'runt,' and a girl— attached herself to Delia, which about made her glow with happiness.

Blue stuck with Graham for the most part— and you could see Graham's pure, unmitigated delight in the way he held the little guy.

Red seemed to think that Sunrise was all hers— and Sunrise loved that.

Silver… he stuck with Sara like she was a can of dragon-nip or something.

And Purple… Purple decided that baby Jocelyn was his person. She never batted at him, as babies will when trying to show affection, she'd just hold out a hand and let him rub against it, giggling and crowing with delight. She'd fall asleep in her crib or on a pile of blankets, and he'd flap over to her and take a snooze on her belly— painfully cute!

I'm not going to drag it out; those bondings did end up being for life, even Graham's with Blue, and he worried about having to be gone so much as Blue was growing, thought that might inhibit the bond. It didn't.

They named themselves by taking images and words from us, and soon the color names went the way of the dodo bird.

My girl's name was Charm. Appropriate, as I thought of a charm bracelet with a dragon on it when I looked at her. And really, she wasn't _my_ special friend so much as she was _our_ special friend— she got as comfortable with Rose as Glitter had with me.

Delia told us Saturday afternoon that her little friend had picked Emerald as a name.

Sunrise burst out laughing a half an hour after that, while stroking her red-gold friend as she sat on Sunrise's palm.

"Her name's Sunset!" Sunrise said— and the whole room busted out laughing.

Silver decided that his name was Alloy, according to Sara.

Blue told Graham after dinner (while sitting on top of Graham's head, clutching at the man's short hair— we have pictures, and we break them out when we need a laugh) that he wanted to be called Neon, which Graham passed on to us.

And Purple… Purple turned out to be responsible for Jocelyn's first word.

Purple had been sitting on Chantelle's shoulder, watching as she played with Jocelyn, cuddled her and talked to her. Rather suddenly, Jocelyn sat up straighter in Chantelle's arms and looked at Purple. She made sounds, but they weren't any words we grownups knew. So Jocelyn looked at Purple for a moment, then patted Chantelle's cheek with a chubby hand and said, clear as crystal, "Mama."

The room went dead silent— and Jocelyn said it again. "Mama."

Purple whistle-burbled— and Chantelle stiffened, looked back and forth between Jocelyn and Purple a couple of times, then said, "I will be dipped in whiskey an' pickled like an egg!

"This little fella's name is Royal, he tells me— since Jocelyn can't tell us, and he wants us to know."

We all laughed and cheered— and Jocelyn reached out for Whitey, and Chantelle passed her to him. Immediately, Jocelyn patted Whitey's cheek and said, clearly and cheerfully, "Da!"

Being Whitey, he got all teary-eyed and hugged Jocelyn as tightly as he could without causing her any discomfort.

"Mama," Jocelyn said, leaning over to pat Chantelle. She then patted Whitey again, and said, "Da."

The little dragon flew over to perch on Jocelyn's shoulder and she looked around at him and said "Oy-al."

Freaking miraculous!


	74. Chapter 74

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 74

_Rose:_

You know, even though they weren't in the Big Battle that Elaine and I are working our way up to telling you about, when Dad suggested we write this little chronicle, I really, really wanted to rip off a famous Japanese story and call it Seven Pseudo Dragons. Dad just rolled his eyes and walked off, and Buffy shot me a look that said "funny, you don't _look_ evil," while Elaine groaned and bopped me with a throw pillow.

But yeah… seven pseudo dragons in one house leads to a merry, merry place. Little flying bundles of smooth, cool-to-the-touch affection and intelligence, these are never a bad thing.

We had a good time getting to know them, getting used to their personalities, and generally making them a part of our family.

Saturday afternoon, the twentieth it would have been, Dad and Vincent took the SUV out and got us a Christmas tree. Now, Elaine may not have mentioned it when she described Scooby Mansion way back towards the front of this, because she got pretty distracted by the memories of her parents death that happened around then, but the whole ground floor has these huge, vaulted ceilings, fifteen feet high. So naturally, Dad and Vincent came home with a tree that was fourteen feet, four inches tall. In the stand, it missed the ceiling by about five inches. When we got the star on later, it was more like an inch.

Gorgeous.

Mom had saved all our Christmas decorations, and everyone had bought some more— we had enough to cover even a tree that big.

We all helped in the decorating, and it turned into a party. We didn't go out to patrol until it was finished.

I had Vincent, Viv and Ballard that night, and the patrol zone in downtown Normal. Not a bad night at all, monster wise. Oh, we hit a group of nine vampires at once, sure, but between us, we made a lot of dust— Vivian is scary with a naginata, Ballard and the butterfly swords he prefers is a dancing dervish o' death, and Vincent can scare anything sane. Add in me and my sword, and nine vamps become a cakewalk.

The only other thing we dealt with that night was a lone demon that resembled a gargoyle. Viv slashed one wing really harshly, grounding it, and we made meat after that.

We got home at a little before two to find light spilling from the study, and Dad poring over a pile of books. I stuck my head in and asked if everything was okay— and Dad looked up at me with eyes so shocked and filled with dread that I let out a little sound of "oh, no."

Dad shook his head mutely, and set down the book he'd been holding, said, "No, Rose, it's not all right. I'm afraid that I've figured out what Amy Madison is doing… and if we don't stop her, I don't see how the world can possibly survive."

"Oh, shit," I said. "Okay, shall I call in the teams?"

"Yes, and wake everyone up," Dad said. "Everyone, Rose, except Jocelyn. Even Laurie, she's very bright, she may have an idea."

"On it," I said. I turned around to find Ballard and the others staring in shock, said, "Vivian, would you go up and wake Laurie, please, and then out to wake Nancy and the youngsters? I'll get Graham and Mom, then call in the teams. Vincent, could you go wake Chantelle?"

"I'll call in the teams, Rose," Dad said. "You just wake your mother and Graham."

I went to wake Mom first, got her awake, said, "Dad knows what Amy's doing, Mom, and he thinks we need to talk about it right-the-hell-now."

"All right, let me get dressed." Mom sat up and yawned. "Library?"

"Library," I agreed, then hugged her and went to the guest house.

_Thomas_ answered my knocking, looking rumpled and kind of owlish— no glasses on, he looked very different without them— wearing only a robe, I was pretty sure.

"Sorry to wake you, Thomas," I said. "But can you wake Graham, and you two come to the library in the big house? Dad's figured out what Amy's up to, and I guess it's so bad that we need to start planning how to stop it now."

"Of course, Rose," Thomas said. "We'll be there in five minutes or less."

"Thanks," I said, and went back to the house. As soon as I got in, Glitter landed on my shoulder, and crawled down into my arms to offer comfort the best way she could. I took it gladly.

It took half an hour to get everyone here. Once we had everyone in the library, Dad started explaining.

"All right," Dad said. "I've been looking for specifics on certain information we received back in the summer, the night we met Ballard and added Linnea to our ranks— a good night already, and that the information garnered has given us a chance to act makes it even better.

"That night, we learned that the Urtulal demons wanted to sacrifice the sixth daughter of a sixth daughter of a sixth daughter— but we did not learn why. It disturbed me greatly, as the Urtulal are not, by nature, the type to achieve their ends through sacrificial magic. They are, however, mercenaries, of both the combative and magical variety. They will fight or perform spells for pay, often both.

"Yet still I could find no reason why, none. That sort of a sacrifice is dangerous, very dangerous, and the power it releases monumental. There are very few uses for which it could be successfully used.

"I finally found the answer. Today I received a copy of Bartholomew's Index of the Greater Sacrifices and Their Uses, which took no small amount of work to locate, and a large amount of money to buy.

"I found what Amy is doing. She is preparing to enact the Ritual of the Gaping Way."

Even Willow looked perplexed at that.

"Amy is going to open a new Hellmouth," Giles said in a quiet voice. "Here. In Normal or Bloomington."

"Oh, that's not good," Buffy said. "But we can handle—"

"No, I'm afraid we can't," Dad said. "Buffy… Hellmouths are a natural occurrence. They exist to allow certain energies to bleed off between dimensions. Yes, we closed one down. In a thousand years or so, another will open near where that one was as the excess energies of the dimension that the Old Ones fled to exceeds the tolerances of dimensional barriers again.

"But they aren't supposed to exist close together, no closer than about two thousand miles or so. By opening one within four hundred miles of another, Amy will cause the energies of the Old Ones' dimension to— to fluctuate wildly and dangerously. And that will have one of two effects, either of which would be catastrophic.

"Either it will cause Hellmouths to open all over the world, spaced as close as two hundred miles apart, no more than four hundred miles apart… or it will cause one very large Hellmouth to open, covering the distance between here and Cleveland, and unleashing the Old Ones into our world once again."

"Oh, goddess!" Willow said. "Giles… I don't think even I could stand up to an Old One! Let alone more than one!"

"You couldn't," Dad said flatly. "You are phenomenally powerful, Willow but against such as they… no. You could not stand."

"Damn it," Buffy said. "All right, then, at least there won't be an army of Turok-Han vampires, that's something."

"Buffy… I'm afraid there might be," Dad said. "Or at least, there might if Amy succeeds. You did not kill the First Evil, you know— you can't kill it. You only banished it for a time, perhaps for five hundred years, maybe more. Amy's spell will release the First into our world again, and the First will in fact open the new Hellmouth using the energies supplied by Amy's spell and sacrifice. The power Amy has raised already, meant to be used to punch through the dimensional barriers to the First, that is what is calling all of the creatures we've faced thus far. They sense the imminent return of the First Evil… and they come to curry favor, knowingly or not."

"God," Buffy said, sounding sick. "God, that stupid bitch!"

"Yes," Dad said. "Graham… can you—"

"You'll get all the help you can handle," Graham said. "But it would help if you could say when, Giles."

"Sometime after sundown on Monday the twenty-second of this month," Dad said, "And before one AM on the twenty-third. I know that's short notice, Graham, but—"

"Well, it's two-fifteen on the morning of the twenty-first," Graham said. "For START, that's plenty of notice.

"Can you guess at a time specifically?"

"Were I to be mad enough to do this," Dad said, "I think I would attempt it at thirteen hours after sunrise. That being the shortest day of the year, it will be full dark. That would mean eight-sixteen PM on Monday evening."

"All right," Graham said. "Anything else you can tell me, Giles?"

"I'm afraid not," Dad said.

"Then we'll make that be enough," Graham said, and unclipped the phone on his belt. He pressed one button, waited less than five seconds, and said, "This is Captain Graham Miller, operative identity Harker, authorization code Kolchak. Please confirm my identity….

"All right, prepare for dispatch: The word is Lovecraft, I repeat Lovecraft. All non-medical leaves are cancelled immediately, without appeal or exception. All START operatives are to report to Naval Station Great Lakes immediately. As squads fill out, they are to be airlifted to Bloomington, Illinois, and gather at our emergency headquarters here. All available arms and armor are to be issued, up to and including weapons classified as Scarlet. This is Situation: Revelations.

"Dispatch ends.

"Personal dispatch, Captain Riley Finn, begins— Hey, guy, your ex fell into it again, and it's worse than before. Bounce it, soldier— and see if you can spring Codeword Panic for the ride, we need every ounce of oomph we can get. See you soon.

"Personal dispatch ends." He hung up the phone.

"I resent being accused of falling in it again, you know," Buffy said. "I didn't fall in it, it fell on me."

"Semantics," Graham said, waving a hand. "Okay, I'm going back to bed. I'll need to be up and out in… three hours, if I'm going to beat the first team to our HQ. And since I called it in, I have to do that."

"May I ask where your headquarters in Bloomington is?" Dad said.

"The fifth and sixth subbasements of the State Farm corporate building," Graham said. "Don't worry, I'll tell you how to get there. I'll _have_ to tell you, since you can't otherwise, mostly because those floors don't exist. At least, not so far as State Farm is concerned….

"Thomas?" Graham held out a hand, and Thomas took it and stood.

"Why do I always fall for the guys with the dangerous jobs?" Thomas asked. "It's like a curse or something."

"You just like that I'm all butch, that's all," Graham said as they left for the guest house.

"Great," I muttered. "Not only do I have finals on Monday, I also have to prevent the world from ending. Mom, Dad, will you forgive me if I don't get A's on my Computer Science II and World History finals? Under the circumstances?"

"I think we might forgive you a couple of B's, Rose," Mom said. "But… no C's or lower."

"Gee, thanks," I said, trying to sound put-upon. I stood, pulling Elaine up with me. "Well, I'm for bed. Goodnight, folks."

"A moment, please, Rose," Dad said. "I'd like all Watchers to remain, all full Guardians, Willow, Vincent, Buffy, Rose, Elaine, Brianne, Vivian and Jenna. Will the rest of you excuse us?"

The others left, and we all gathered at one table. Dad stood once we'd all sat, and I felt… scared. He looked old, old and scared and horribly upset. His expression hardened some after a moment, became resolute… but didn't lose those other things.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am about to ask of you something that… that upsets me," Giles said. "Especially as I am asking it of some of you who, while you behave as adults, are not adults. You are responsible young women, and you are brave and resourceful, and I am proud of each of you… but I am about to ask you to give up a piece of your innocence. I am ashamed… but I must put the well-being of the entire world before the well-being of those under my care.

"Amy Madison is taking actions that may well result in the total destruction of the world we know. She… she's quite mad. And she is a human being, by the definition of the Watcher's Council, despite her skill and power….

"So it upsets me to ask of you, _any of you,_ but especially those of you who are younger than the age of legal adulthood, to kill her _on sight,_ without hesitation, mercy or warning.

"Amy Madison cannot be allowed to complete her plan, or everything that we have fought for will come to nothing."

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Bree said, "Yes. All right. Although I think I might have to object to the words 'on sight,' Giles."

"On perception, then," Dad said, with a ghost of a smile.

"I'll do it, if I can," I said. "But… well, you and Mom will probably have to put up with me sleeping in your bed for a couple of nights afterwards— I'll need to be babied as only a parent can baby."

"I'm in," Elaine said. "You're right, Giles— it has to be done."

"Yeah," Jenna said. "Yeah. I'll need Diane back if I have to do that, Giles— but I'll do it. For the world… I'll do it."

"For the world," Vivian said softly. "Yes. For the world. For that, I'll kill her."

"As will I," Vincent rumbled. "I will be saddened… but I will do it."

"Yeah," Ballard said. "Yeah. I set out to become a hero— and that means accepting the hard jobs."

"Yes," Sh'rin said softly. "It must be done. If I can, if I see her, I will set her on the road to hell."

"Yeah," Sunrise said, her voice tremulous. "There's too much here that I love to let this psycho cow end it all over something as stupid as being jealous of Willow."

"She's threatening my little girl by extension," Whitey said in a voice much harder than anyone else's— but he was a cop, once, he'd probably steeled himself to the idea of maybe having to kill a long time ago. "That's not permitted. I clap eyes on her, she dies."

"You know I'll do it," Buffy said simply. "And we both know Xander and Willow will if they have to."

"Won't like it much," Xander said. "But yeah— if I can, I'll do it."

"It is my fondest hope that I never have to ask this of any of you again," Giles said. "And I would have you know… I am proud of each of you.

"On that note… I think it's bedtime."

"A moment, please," Vincent said. He looked at Vivian, and her eyes widened a little, but she nodded. "This is… perhaps not the time, but I would say something.

"Once this is over, once we have won… Vivian and I would like you all to help us plan our wedding."

Tumultuous congratulations followed, and Vivian spoke when it died down.

"We'd also like your help in… well, I think there are too many differences in Vincent's DNA and mine for us to have children without help." Vivian blushed, but smiled as she continued. "So if we survive this, we'd appreciate any help any of you can offer in that direction, scientific, magical, or otherwise.

"Also… Giles, you know what my parents were like. I won't have them near me, not ever again. So… would you give me away?"

"It would be an honor," Dad said, and smiled fully for the first time that night. "Thank you, Vivian."

"I have ideas about helping you have kids," Willow said. "Needs a little research, but hey— I was research girl a long time before I was the Über-witch, you know?"

We all went to bed, then— and Elaine and I made crazy, almost desperate love until way too late before we exhausted ourselves enough to sleep.

I shared my breakfast the next morning with Charm and Neon, who, between them, ate almost two full bites of pancakes with apple topping. Hungry little things!

Everyone was pretty somber that morning— for a while. Then the baby pseudo dragons all started wrestling and playing in the middle of the kitchen table, and the somber went away— that was more fun than watching a litter of kittens play, and more colorful to boot.

About eleven, the doorbell rang, and I went to get it— and found Faith, Robin Wood and the entire Cleveland Crew standing there.

"Hey, Rose," Faith said, grinning. "You ready to rumble Sunnydale style?"

I laughed and hugged her, and she hugged back.

I invited them in, and Dad came in. Robin looked at Giles and said, "Reporting for duty, sir, as ordered."

"Yes, yes, let's not get all military," Dad said. "Welcome, everyone— and please, do see Nancy and Kelly about your rooms in the guest house and the dorms."

"I didn't know you'd called for backup, Dad," I said. "Can't say I'm sorry, though."

"It seemed prudent," Dad said. "I even called the overseas contingent. Their top five percent of Slayers will be along via magical gate soon enough, though they'll be going to hotels. That will give us another thirty troops, and still leave plenty to defend against… well, to defend against whatever may come, should we fail.

"The Montana group has no one who is battle ready yet, so they will be sitting this one out."

"No worries," Faith said, sitting on the couch. "We ain't in the habit of— what the hell!"

Glitter had come gliding in and settled on my shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, you missed the coolness," I said. "Ladies and gentleman, allow me to introduce my best friend in two worlds, Glitter. She's a pseudo dragon from a world where life is a game of Dungeons and Dragons. Her six babies are around here somewhere, but they're harmless. Curious as kittens and twice as cute— be warned, that much cute can be painful. If they seem to like you, it's a huge compliment, they're empathic and telepathic."

About that time, Royal flew in, buzzed the room once, then settled on Faith's shoulder, leaning out and around to look at her.

"Hey, little dragons come in purple," Faith said. "Who knew? Hey, pal, what's your name?"

"That's Royal," Chantelle said as she came in carrying Jocelyn— and causing a bunch of Slayers to go dewy-eyed with 'baby reflex.' "He's a right sweet little guy."

We got everyone settled in, and then along came the overseas contingent. They all spoke English, thank god, Andrew and Robson had made teaching them English a priority, and most of them were very cool. One, a gorgeous Japanese girl named Satsu, seemed totally awed and overwhelmed by the pseudo dragons, and when Charm settled on her leg for a nap, I thought the poor girl was going to pop with pride.

About four, the doorbell rang, and I went to get it. A slender, handsome man about Dad's age stood there, smiling. Behind him, I could see Riley and Sam coming up the walk, moving almost like they were hurrying.

"Hello, my dear," the man said in a low, pleasant, cultured voice, complete with British accent. "Is Rupert Giles in?"

"Oh, sure, come on in," I said, stepping aside. "Half a sec, he's in the next room.

"Dad! Someone here to see you!"

"Dad?" the man said. "My, Rupert seems to be settling down."

Dad came into the hall, saw the man standing there— and froze.

"Hello, Ripper," the man said. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Dad strode forward— and decked the guy with a single punch.


	75. Chapter 75

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 75

_Only six parts left after this one! So, if all goes well, the last part will be posted next Thursday, 21 July 2011!_

_Elaine:_

Okay, Giles decked this guy on sight, no warning, not a word— just POW! Right in the nose, and down goes the skinny guy.

"Ethan, I don't know what you're doing here, but I'm not going to tolerate it," Giles said, stepping forward and sort of looming over this Ethan person. "You've got— no, never mind. Riley! This man seems to have escaped government custody— kindly remedy that, would you?"

"Uh, actually, Giles," Riley said, looking like he felt nervous, but still wanted to grin. "It's… Ethan's in custody. Sort of a… work release program. He's here to help with the situation."

" 'Here to'— Riley, have you gone mad!" Giles said. "For heaven's sake, man, this ponce worships bloody chaos! If Amy succeeds—"

"If Miss Madison succeeds in her ill-advised endeavor," Ethan said, rising with as much dignity as he could muster (not a lot, considering that Sam hauled him up by the collar of his coat), "then I shall certainly enjoy the chaos that ensues— for the very few days that I am likely to survive.

"Ripper—"

"Don't you call me that!" Giles snapped. "I don't bloody care what side you're on, Ethan Rayne, don't you ever call me that again!"

"Sorry, sorry," Rayne said in a placating tone. "Rupert… I love chaos, yes. But I'm a bit more fond of being alive than I am of dying of chaos, if you take my meaning."

"Fine," Giles said, his voice bitterly cold. "All right, Ethan— you can help. But Riley, he's _not_ staying here. Not in my house, not with my children, not with my Slayers."

"No problem," Riley said. "But he did make seeing you right away a condition of his assistance."

"Fine, he's seen me— now get him out of here," Giles said, and turned away.

"I can tell you a way to locate the power circle that the Madison girl is using," Ethan Rayne said. "In fact, I can do the spell myself, though not alone."

Giles froze, and I could see the tension and indecision in his face.

"Rupert… it's my life, too," Ethan said. "And… well, you won't believe me, but… I've gotten old and soft, Rupert. I don't want to hurt anyone, or see anyone hurt. Especially not the only man still alive who ever called me friend— no matter how badly I've bollixed that."

"Fine," Giles said. "Sit down— I'll be back in a moment."

Rayne came in, looked around, and headed for the living room and an armchair, wiping the blood from his nose and mouth with a handkerchief from his pocket as he went.

As he walked in, Riley looked at Sam, said, "Told you Giles would deck him on sight. Pay up." Riley held out his hand, and Sam put a ten dollar bill in it with a sigh.

"I just would never have expected it of Giles," Sam said. "He seems so… civilized."

We all walked in, and Rose, never one to mince words, said, "So… you're somebody Dad's willing to actually hit without warning. You must be a real ass-goblin.

"Hi, I'm Rose Killian. Rupert Giles is my stepfather."

"Hello, Rose," Rayne said. "I'm Ethan Rayne, and old friend of, and more recent enemy of, your stepfather."

"Yeah, I gathered that," Rose said. "Okay, let me do the introductions thing, here."

She introduced him to me, Sara, Bree, Laurie, Ballard, Sunrise (who said only "We've met— he turned me into a puppy one Halloween," in a chilly voice), and Sh'rin.

Then Glitter flew in and landed on Rose's shoulder— and Ethan smiled in amazement and delight.

"My dear!" Ethan said to Rose. "Is that… a pseudo dragon?"

"Yes, this is my friend Glitter," Rose said. "You recognize the breed?"

"Oh, yes, I was quite the Dungeons and Dragons player for a time," Ethan said. "Hello, Glitter, it's a very definite pleasure to meet you."

Then Rose's mouth fell open as Glitter cocked her head from side to side while looking at Ethan— then dropped off of Rose's shoulder and flew over to land neatly on his lap. He looked startled, but immeasurably pleased. Glitter sat up on her hind legs, lifted her head, and looked Ethan in the eyes.

For a long moment, no one moved or spoke— then Glitter made a little tsk-ing sound, not a growl, more of a "you naughty boy, you" noise, and Ethan said, "Yes, I know, my dear. It is very likely much too late. Still… I will try. It's all I have left, trying."

Glitter burbled something that sounded like agreement— and shoved her head under Ethan's hand to be petted.

"Huh," Rose said, and looked at Ethan. "Okay, I'm willing to downgrade 'ass-goblin' to 'jerkwater,' since Glitter likes you. You must really be at least trying to straighten your act up."

"Trying, yes," Ethan said. "I doubt I can ever truly straighten out every bend— I've too much to atone for in a single lifetime— but I'll try."

"Bloody hell," Giles said from behind us. Ethan looked up, startled, and Giles said, "All right, Ethan— Glitter is a phenomenal judge of character. I will trust you… 'one more time for all the old times,' as the song says."

"Midnight Blue, Melissa Manchester," Ethan said— then looked horrified. "My god, Rupert, I don't know which is worse— that you're quoting Melissa Manchester lyrics at me, or that I'm able to identify them!"

Giles's face twisted, and he started turning red, and I braced myself for the explosion— that never came.

Giles burst out laughing.

"Oh, damn," Giles said, dropping to the corner of the couch nearest Ethan. "You're quite right, you know— that was a bit horrifying.

"Ethan… what do you need to find Amy's power circle, and how will the spell work?"

"Captain Finn has a list of ingredients," Ethan said. "The spell itself… Rupert, I won't lie to you, it's a complex beast. It will take hours to cast, and it will require someone as fond of order as I am of chaos. And it must be started at sunup tomorrow.

"I've a copy of the spell here." Ethan handed Giles a rolled piece of parchment. "If you can see any safe way of shortening it, I'm game… but given the forces involved, I think it can't be shortened, more's the pity.

"You and your lot may be fond of the last-minute saves, but I prefer a margin for error, safety— and running like a hare."

Giles chuckled a little, said, "Ethan, I'm afraid you're quite mistaken— we don't prefer last minutes saves, they just… keep happening that way. I suppose the Powers That Be must think it's better that way, though I do wish they'd tone down their sense of the dramatic."

"Don't we all," Ethan said. He blinked then, as Alloy flew in, landed in Sara's hand and got petted for a moment, then flew over and landed on his shoulder.

"Dear me, Glitter, you've had children?" Ethan said, reaching up to let Alloy sniff his fingers and rub against his hand. Glitter nodded, and Ethan said, "A house full of pseudo dragons… Rupert, I'm afraid we simply have to win, now— a miracle like this cannot be endangered. And if you don't know how very lucky you are, I shall be delighted to smack you about the head until such time as you realize it."

"Oh, I'm quite aware," Giles said. "I've married, I've got a pair of— no, correction; I've got _five_ daughters whom no man could fail to be proud of, a child on the way, a goddaughter who's a miracle in and of herself, the best Slayers on the planet under my tutelage, friends, a house a Lord could be proud of, and regular chances to make the world a better place.

"Add in seven pseudo dragons and an amazingly friendly dog, and I really couldn't ask for more."

"Hmm," Ethan said, looking thoughtful. "Tickets to see the Rolling Stones in Madison Square Garden on the twenty-seventh of this month?"

"Yes, all right, you win," Giles said. "That would be the perfect cap."

"Sadly, my custodial arrangement with START won't permit me to go," Ethan said. "Ah, well."

"Ethan, you help us out with this, you find Amy," Riley said, "and I'll personally guarantee you that you'll go to that concert, complete with backstage passes."

"Really?" Ethan said, perking up. "Tickets for me, Rupert, his wife and any of his daughters that he cares to take, and who care to come?"

"Done deal," Riley said. "Ethan… you've been a lot of help this last year. You'll have to put up with me and Sam going, too— I love the Stones, and she's a fan, too— but you'll see it."

"Well, had you offered that three years ago, I might have started helping you a good deal sooner," Ethan said. "Rupert, are you interested?"

"Yes, certainly," Giles said. "And I know Kelly will be. As for my daughters, I'm not so sure. Dawn? Rose? Elaine?"

"I'm in," Rose said. "Gotta respect the classics."

"Me, too," I said, feeling like I might just pop from happy. He called me his daughter!

"I… you called me… yes, please!" Sunrise said, suddenly all lit up and happy.

"Yes, I finally said it, Dawn," Giles said. "I'm a bit slow, I realize— always have been, that way— but you and Buffy are my daughters as much as Elaine, Rose and Laurie."

"Then I'm in, too," Buffy said from behind us. "But… what am I into?"

"Rolling Stones concert," Sunrise said. "Madison Square Garden, a couple days after Christmas."

"Okay, but can I bring Xander?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, to hell with it," Riley said. "What's the point of belonging to super-secret government organization if you can't abuse the power of it now and again?

"Whole house can come— we'll figure out the how later."

"Excellent," Ethan said. "Captain Finn, could you arrange for me to speak to Captain Miller? I will need a large open area for that spell to find Amy Madison— and I do still need a partner…."

"Ethan, you know I'll help," Giles said. "For I do love order like you love chaos, and I've the skill."

"I'm actually not sure that's the best idea, Rupert," Ethan said. "No, hear me out; you're the best bloody tactician on the planet when it comes to opposing the supernatural. With your knowledge of what's out there, coupled with your experience at opposing it… well, I'd be much more comfortable with you working on battle plans over helping me cast a spell like this."

"Ethan's right, Giles," Riley said. "I want you and Team Slayer on tactics— in fact, I'm defaulting command to you, with permission from on high."

"You're— you can't be serious!" Giles said.

"I'm serious," Riley said. "Giles, START isn't the Initiative. We aren't stupid, and while we're proud, we aren't assholes about it. You're the best suited for command, so… you're in command. My superiors concur."

"I am no tactician," Sh'rin said from the door to the dining room. "And I love order, stand for order. Will I do, Mr. Rayne?"

"Well, if Giles says you're magician enough, you'll do quite well," Ethan said. "And it will be a pleasure, Miss…?"

"I am Sh'rin," she replied. "I am Chief of the Guardians in this now."

"The— oh, the time traveler, excellent," Ethan said. "No need to ask Rupert, then— I know you're magician enough. And do call me Ethan, please."

"All right, that's settled," Riley said. "Giles… you want to bring everyone to this address after dinner tonight?" He handed Giles a piece of paper, said, "The entrance to our HQ is there. We'll show you around, show you what we're bringing to the party, and introduce you to the men."

"Yes, all right," Giles said. "About seven-thirty, then?"

"Works," Riley said. "Folks, it was good to see you all, and we'll see you later. Ethan, let's go see what we've got for a casting area for you."

"Yes, all right," Ethan said. "Rupert, go over that spell, bring what ingredients you can this evening?"

"Yes, all right," Giles said. "Ethan… thank you."

"It's my world, too," Ethan said. Almost hesitantly, he offered his hand. "And I must admit… it feels good to be working with you instead of against you."

Giles shook Ethan's hand and said softly, "Old times meet the new, Ethan. It is good to work with you— for the right reasons."

Ethan, Sam and Riley left, and we started thinking about dinner.

After dinner, we all went— even the "non-combatants" like Kelly, Laurie, Nancy and Jocelyn— to the address Giles had been given, which turned out to be a closed-down and abandoned convenient store a block away from State Farm's big corporate offices here in Bloomington. We were met by couple of unmistakable soldiers, who led us into the store, then into the old office of the place, which turned out to contain a hidden stairwell that led down to an underground concrete tunnel. We walked the tunnel and were met by Graham, who stood before what I swear looked like a pair of blast doors right off of the Death Star from Star Wars.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Graham said, grinning widely, "allow me to welcome you to the Bloomington area headquarters of the United States Army's Supernatural Threat Active Response Teams."

He pressed his hand to a panel on the wall, and it scanned his palm and fingerprints before the doors opened slowly and majestically on a set from a science fiction movie— or so I thought for a second.

Twenty-first century ultra-modern command center, and oh, it looked… well, like _late_ twenty-first century command center, you know? Computers screens all over, big glass tactical displays, men and women hustling and hurrying and looking busy, everyone wearing small, neat headset comm gear, a running display of creatures known to have been encountered in the Bloomington-Normal area on the left wall, a raised platform near the front, with Riley and Sam on it, both working at different consoles.

"What do you think?" Graham said— and Buffy hit him with a pun that I'd bet money she'd been dying to say for weeks.

"Well… it's a START," she said, grinning hugely.

"Oh, thank god that's out of the way," Graham said, wincing. "All right, come on in, folks— I'll give you the nickel tour. Let's not bug Sam and Riley right now, they've got their hands full trying to get real-time tactical support online."

Graham told us what everything in the command center was for— mostly monitoring local police bands, coordinating teams, and monitoring soldiers in the field, and they had some in the field.

"We figured you guys are going to carry most of the weight tomorrow night, so… we thought we'd take it tonight," Graham said. "That puts the best people to solve the problem out there tomorrow night, fully rested and ready to go."

"Excellent, and thank you," Giles said. "Now… what else do you have to show us?"

Graham led us to the armory— and I think about half of us started drooling.

"Okay, this is a serious weapons collection," Rose said, her eyes lighting up with delight. "I'll take one of everything, please— do you deliver?"

"Sorry, it's pick-up only," Graham said. "But tomorrow you guys get to raid this place before you go out. I'd show you the modern weapons room, but I know about Slayers and guns."

"Nobody said anything about Watchers and guns," Whitey said. "Let us see, please."

The gun armory was even bigger and better stocked than the melee armory, and I saw the eyes of Whitey and Vincent light up with that same gleam that had been in Rose's eyes next door.

"Oh, baby," Whitey said. "I'll be visiting both rooms before we go out tomorrow night."

"As will I," Vincent said.

"Oh, hell yes," Xander said. "Buffy, I love you and I respect you, but I want guns!"

"You have an excuse," Buffy said, grinning. "Tomorrow night, you can rifle the armory all you like!"

"Hey!" Xander said. "Look, Buff, the puns? _My job,_ okay?"

"Hey, honey, you snooze, you lose," Buffy said, looking smug.

"Okay, moving on," Graham said, "before Buffy puns us to death."

He showed us the weapons ranges, the training rooms, and what he called "the hard rooms," where he thought that maybe Kelly, Nancy, Laurie and Jocelyn could wait the next night, with the pseudo dragons, of course.

"I'm game," Kelly said. "Can I get a feed from the battlefield in here? I'll need to know what's going on."

"Bet on it," Graham said.

"That's a bit of a relief," Giles said. "Thank you, Graham."

"No problem," he said. "Now, before we go back upstairs, let me take you to the special weapons room. There are some things there you folks might like, some of you."

The special weapons room… well, I didn't even know what most of them were. Some were obvious— a European longsword with little holes up and down it, and a hose running from the pommel to a tank you could wear on your back, for instance— flaming sword. A three-section staff with rubber grips on it here and there, a taser-weapon, okay. But… the funny, spread-hand-sized metal disks with the finger holes in the tops, and that looked to have been made of different alloys? Didn't get those, not at first.

"Oh, mama," Chantelle said after picking one up. "Whitey, take Jocelyn for a minute, honey?"

Whitey took the baby, and Chantelle picked up a pair of the disks by the finger holes, looked to the end of the room where several targets had been set up, and grinned.

"Uh, Chantelle, those aren't normal thr—" Graham started.

Chantelle crossed her arms with the disks up by her shoulders, then flung both arms out and released, throwing not for the targets, but for the walls to either side of the room.

The disks spun away from her towards the outer walls, curved back across each other's paths, went for the opposite walls, curved back and crossed paths _again_— then sank into the middle two targets, both in the bulls-eye.

"Holy shit!" Graham said.

"How many o' them you got, sugar?" Chantelle asked. " 'Cause I'll take 'em all, okay?"

"Got a dozen," Graham said. "They're yours.

"And something else might suit you, Little Miss Accuracy— check this out."

Graham took down a bow off of the wall, a composite bow of such heavy construction that it looked like it had been made for the Hulk to use, and handed it to Chantelle. She hefted it, took the string and drew it— and I remembered her comment, the night we first talked, about how Whitey said she shouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn, given how she shot.

Instead of holding the bow vertically, Chantelle held it horizontally, parallel to the ground. Looked odd— but I remembered how many arrows she'd sunk into the H'lkordak demons that night at the mall, and decided to let her shoot how she liked.

"Oh, that's nice," Chantelle cooed. "What's the pull on this little girl?"

"Little— Chantelle, that's a three hundred pound pull!" Graham said. " 'Little girl?' Give me a break!"

"Drops to what, one-fifty?" Chantelle asked, and Graham nodded. "Got arrows can take the strain?"

"Yeah, tungsten-carbon composite shaft," Graham said. "Heads come in the same material, silver, and snakewood— only wood hard enough to take that kind of stress."

"Okay, I know what I'm carrying tomorrow night," Chantelle said. "The discs, this bow, some arrows, couple of stakes an' a short sword, and I'm good."

"Good grief," Graham muttered. "Well, that's what it's for— Slayer use.

"And on that note… one more stop, then you need to meet someone."

He led us down a hall and into a big, empty room with a multi-tiered circle set in its floor. Ethan Rayne was in there, looking at the lowest tier and nodding.

"Ah, hello," Ethan said. "Giles, would you look at this? Beautifully laid out for casting, you can layer your protection circles nicely, and my god, that's a lot of Slayers, isn't it?"

Giles laughed, introduced Kelly and all the rest, and damned if Ethan didn't get every single name right in a single pass.

"I've got everything you require, too," Giles said, handing over a sports bag he'd brought with him. "Though I must admit, some of the things were a bit… odd."

"The math texts and the Barrel of Monkeys game struck me as most peculiar," Ethan said.

"I was rather struck by the film on Jackson Pollack and the kaleidoscope, myself," Giles said. "And the Blue Oyster Cult album— fortunately, I had an extra copy."

"Yes, well, that's everything, then," Ethan said. "Have you given Sh'rin the spell to study?"

"He has," Sh'rin said. "It is… most unusual. I would have never thought of it, though I suppose Dawn might have. For each of us to detect the other's opposing forces until we both hit on the same force, as the orderly array of Amy Madison's spell calls for the chaos of the Hellmouth… ingenious."

"And, sadly, time consuming," Ethan said. "You know, it strikes me that the Powers That Be, as Rupert said, are far too fond of the dramatic."

"The universe is a story," Sh'rin said softly. "Always being told anew, writing itself, giving us excitement and boredom, love and hate, good and evil… order and chaos. And what is a story without drama?"

"Hmm, yes," Ethan agreed. " 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players,' as Shakespeare said."

"Yes, that is it," Sh'rin said. "So… tomorrow, we enact our share of the story."

"Indeed," Ethan said. "You know, this whole playing the hero thing may take some getting used to. But… 'one man in his time plays many parts,' from the same quote, almost."

"Yes," Sh'rin said. "And tomorrow, you play the hero, Ethan Rayne. I think you may find that you like the part."

"Oh, I do hope not," Ethan said. "I'm just too old to go running around with a sword and a sense of self-righteousness…."

We laughed, and Ethan joined us as Graham took us back to the entrance of the complex, where a young woman soldier was just checking in, and looking around her in awed amazement. She saw Graham, straightened to attention and saluted.

"Sir!" she snapped. "Private First Class Lissette Tranh reporting as ordered!"

Graham returned the salute, then said, "At rest, PFC Tranh. We operate under informal rules of command here— consider this battlefield etiquette."

"Yes, sir," PFC Tranh said, and grinned, transforming herself from mildly pretty to painfully cute.. "Sir, have I been assigned to the Rebel Alliance, or something? I feel like I'm in a Star Wars movie, here!"

"No, more like a Stephen King film," Graham said. "Only with a script by Tom Clancy."

"Okay, that's different." She looked thoughtful. "Uh, sir… what am I doing here? I'm an MP, and you don't look like you need anyone arrested."

"Well, that's an easy answer," Graham said. "But before I give it… PFC Tranh, everyone behind me— civilians and all, even the baby— has a clearance of Gold One, are we clear?"

Tranh's eyes widened, but she nodded and said, "Yes, Captain."

"Okay, then," Graham said— and he swung at her.

Tranh blocked the blow, then the three that came after it— then this tiny little thing, not more than an inch over five feet tall, grabbed two-hundred-plus pound Graham by the belt and lifted him over her head with one arm!

"You know, sir, if you wanted me to demonstrate my strength, all you had to do was ask," she said. "May I put you down now?"

"Please, while I still have a drop of dignity left," Graham said.

"Check it out," Rose said happily. "She's one of us!"

"One of who?" Tranh said, putting Graham down.

"Before you answer that," Graham said, "let me simplify some things, please.

"Corporal Tranh— yes, you're promoted— you are hereby on detached duty from the United States Army and START. Your orders are as follows; you will attach yourself to the group behind me, follow the orders of Rupert Giles— that's him with the glasses— and any of his people whom he places over you. You will remain on this detached duty until your tour is up, unless countered by an officer of START. Is that clear?"

"Clear, sir," Tranh said. "Thank you, sir." She then turned to Giles and said, "What are your orders, sir?"

"First, call me Giles," he said. "Second… do you recognize— Willow, come up here, please." Willow came forward, and I saw Corporal Tranh's eyes widen. "Do you recognize this young woman?"

"I— yes!" Tranh said. "Yes, Giles, I do! I had this— this _vision_ last May…!"

Yup. Lissette Tranh, age twenty, was a Slayer.

Coolness.


	76. Chapter 76

A Note to Readers: From this point through the end of Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0), it is important to remember that in the universe of this story, _none of the events of __Angel__, Season Five occurred._ The Fang Gang did not take the deal offered by Wolfram and Hart, and there was no resurrection of Spike or death of Fred. They continued as they had before, running Angel Investigations.

ALSO: I have edited the first part of this story to contain the following information, but for those of you who have passed that part already, please note: I do not write other people's stories, ideas, or original characters. Please don't ask.

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 76

_Rose:_

So after that… we went home for the night. Sh'rin would be getting up early, and Riley would pick her up, take her to START headquarters to start her spell with Ethan while the rest of us went about as normal a day as we could.

Lissette came home with us, moved into the one remaining empty bedroom in the big house for the duration— and maybe after. Dad asked her what she intended to do after leaving the army, and she said that she wanted to go to college for a Criminal Justice degree, and had been looking at Illinois State University here in Normal.

"Add in that I can learn to be a Slayer to boot, and I think ISU is a forgone conclusion," Lissette said. "Giles… man! Fighting bad guys, and not just ordinary bad guys? Saving lives? This is what I've wanted since I was a little girl!"

"Welcome to Team Slayer," Buffy said. "We're certainly glad to have you.

"Hey, what weapons do you know? Uh, I should tell you… it's not really cool for a Slayer to use a gun."

"No problem, I barely qualified with the M-16 or the pistol," Lissette said. "But give me my issue riot baton and a big knife, and I'm a happy girl. I suppose adding a couple of stakes might be a good idea, huh?"

"Wouldn't hurt," Buffy said. "Okay, so you're good to go. We'll put you with a team with some experience— I know you're a soldier, but this isn't a normal kind of war."

They were still talking when I went to bed.

I went to bed early so that I could make love to Elaine, and still be fresh for school. Dad again waived the sleep-alone-on-school-nights rule, given the circumstances, and Elaine and I ended up puppy-piled with Ballard, Sunrise and Sh'rin, with Glitter on my pillow and Sunset and Charm on the nightstand.

After breakfast, I went to school. I took my two finals, and had a big open period between them where I'd normally have had gym, so sat talking to Brian about what was going to go down that night, since he was free, too.

"Man," Brian said. "Rose, this sounds bad. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, I was thinking maybe you and Kimber could get together and you could help her with a luck spell," I said. "Couldn't hurt, might help."

"We'll do that, then," he said. "Damn… I'm not gonna sleep a wink tonight, I swear."

"Oh, sure you will," I said. "Brian, if the world hasn't actually started to end by ten— and we won't let that happen, we'll stop it— then it's not going to happen at all, we've won."

"Well, okay," Brian said. "So… can we come over tomorrow, get the story? Me and Kimber, I mean?"

"Works," I said. "Just don't make it too early, I'm planning on sleeping in."

"Well, yeah!" Brian said. "Save the world, sleep in— the latter is a perfectly logical extension of the former, Rose!"

I laughed— and we started talking about a new computer game he'd gotten. May the Powers That Be give everyone who's ever had to do the hard and nasty shit a friend like Brian Keller, to help them stay grounded when things get intense.

When I got home that afternoon, things were pretty normal— for about seven minutes. Long enough for me to change to my favorite cargo pants, a heavy sweater, and my Doc Martens. Then we pretty much had to leave, to go to START HQ and get ready, so that we could be ready at a moment's notice once Ethan and Sh'rin located Amy.

So the Slayer Army took over START for the day— not that they objected. Dad had been up far too late, talking with Riley and Graham, organizing troop strength and figuring out who'd go where and why, all contingent on a great many things. They had talked Dad into letting them put things in a computer, so that if any of the places Dad thought likely as locations for Amy's Hellmouth came up, they'd have predetermined troop disbursement ready. Then, in case none of them did come up (despite Mom helping with her more intimate knowledge of town), they had things broken down by zones, so they could at least put people in the right area.

Dad broke us into teams, and then said that team leaders were authorized to break the teams down further as needed. Only six teams of Slayers, and only one of those commanded by a European-slash-Asian group Slayer.

Buffy had Team One. I had Team Two. Faith led Team Three. Vi (back at last, hooray!) had Team Four. Satsu, the Japanese girl who'd been so wowed by the pseudo dragons, had Team Five. And Brianne, blind and all, had command of Team Six.

Each team had a specific job; Buffy and Team One backed up Willow, kept the not-Amy threats off of her while she faced down Amy, put an end to her. Faith's Team Three was combat support for the immediate area outside wherever Amy's power circle was, there to support the START folks as they held the ground against all comers— and there would be comers, as the summoning circle would draw supernatural beasties like nobody's business as things peaked. Vi's Team Four would respond to any serious civilian-targeting threats, in order of most to least, aided by Satsu's Team Five. Team Six, led by Bree, was designated "free safeties," ready to reinforce wherever needed it most.

Then there was my team, Team Two. Our job was simple; hunt down and put an end to Amy's immediate seconds. Her pet Slayer, and (according to START's seers) three non-human bodyguards, two demons and an unspecified monster.

Dad gave me two people I could trust for command— three if you counted Elaine, which I didn't, because for this, we couldn't split up. I knew, down deep, that we were going to face Disdainful Lass, Amy's Slayer, Kennedy's murderer— and I knew that it had to be Elaine and I together that faced her.

My team consisted of an even dozen, counting me and Elaine. I had two command-types, like I said, Sara and Jenna, each of whom could lead if I had to split up the group, or if I went down. Then I had Sunrise for magical oomph, Whitey for know-how and monster identifying, Lissette for military know-how (since I had to work closely with START folks), Linnea for raw speed (my adopted-sister-Slayer had gotten insanely fast, and picked up fighting skills with scary speed) and Felicia plus three Slayers from Europe to round out the team, a Welsh girl named Gwen, a French girl named Simone, and the tallest Slayer I'd ever met, a six-foot, four inch Scottish girl name Kate. We had an even dozen START soldiers backing us, also under my command, and didn't that feel absolutely weird, giving orders to soldiers!

Of course, we didn't have much to do yet, so I followed everyone to the Hard Room, with a flight of pseudo dragons all around us. Mom, Nancy, Laurie and Jocelyn would stay there, watching and waiting— and Mom seemed more than a little pissed about it.

"I wish I could fight!" she said. "I wish I could be out there, making a difference!"

"You can't," I said, before Dad could open his mouth and put his foot in it. "You'd never let me go if I was pregnant, and you'd be right not to.

"Mom… this isn't going to end the threats to the world, any more than the Battle of the First did. There will be things for you to fight later, and I know you— you'll fight. Hell, if you can't kill some demon, you'll probably send the miserable beast to his room with no TV or internet privileges— and get away with it.

"You'll have your day, Mom. But my little brother, there inside you, he says you're going to sit down and do what you can by praying yourself silly until we put this Madison bitch in the ground."

Mom laughed, and hugged me, and held onto me for a long couple of minutes, then let go and said, "Be careful, my Emerald Rose— and knock 'em dead!"

"Bet on it," I said, and moved to hug the stuffing out of Laurie, who was trying really hard to be brave.

Dad gave Mom one of _those_ kisses while I did that, and while I hugged Nancy, and while I cuddled Glitter for a long, snuggly moment— and finally stopped kissing when I meeped in shock and delight because Glitter sat up in my arms, pressed her head against mine and said, clearly and unmistakably, "Rrrossse."

I didn't realize I was crying over that until I realized that I was seeing several Glitters all of the sudden.

"I love you, Glitter," I said, and hugged her again. "Be good, take care of Mom for me 'til I get back."

Glitter nodded soberly, and flapped over to sit on Mom's shoulder. I let Elaine guide me out of the room, her having hugged everyone already, and went to the armories, where we loaded up on weapons, then the spell room, where Ethan and Sh'rin were working on finding Amy Madison.

We all ended up there, sitting and holding hands in a big circle about four levels above them. I had Elaine on my left, Sunrise on my right, and that felt just fine.

I got a shock when I first walked in— see, I knew what was going on, that Sh'rin and Ethan were working over a massive map of Bloomington Normal and it's environs, looking for a place where Ethan felt the order of Amy's spell and Sh'rin felt the chaos of its intended effect. What I didn't know was that an ordinary map would, in the process of the spell, become a three-dimensional topographically accurate map of the area… or that it would be so beautiful.

I never realized that my hometown was so damned gorgeous.

It only cranked my resolve to preserve the place, and to see Amy and her henchmen go down for trying to hurt it.

We sat, and we watched, and we tried desperately not to be too aware of the passing time— and we failed at that last part, pretty miserably. But we held it together, stayed quiet, stayed calm.

Suddenly, Sh'rin gasped, and straightened a little where she knelt.

"Ethan—" she said.

"I felt it," Ethan said. "Power transfer— from the power circle to the summoning-opening circle. Don't force it, now, my dear, just… feel it. Follow it. Order, seeking chaos… such an unusual flavor it has, like a skunk named Flower, or the brilliant, icy blue of a welder's flame… follow it, but don't pursue. It goes… west. And a little south, do you see it?"

"I feel it," Sh'rin said. "Goddess, how does she control it?"

"She doesn't control it, pet, she only _contains_ it," Ethan said. "She relies on the one she summons to control it."

"There!" Sh'rin said, sitting more straight still. "More south now!"

"Yes, I see," Ethan said. "And… it's almost settled. Almost… there!"

A building lit up, glowed fiercely— and I groaned. It was a six-story building just off of Center, between Center Street and (groan of pain at the obviousness) _Madison_ Street, just north of Mill Street, and it had been abandoned since— well, since before I was born. Big place, filled most of a block— and was reputed to be haunted, of course. Also? Bad neighborhood.

Add in the structural bullshit— a pair of overpasses, with old, abandoned buildings under them, train tracks, all sorts of extra goodies— and it got complicated.

This was going to be a whole lot of not fun.

"Riley, call up the plan for that zone," Giles said. "I'm fairly certain it wasn't a location we prepared for. Get your men in there, start clearing innocents out and watching for demonic incursions.

"Ladies and gentlemen… this is the moment you have trained for. This is why you have worked, and sweated and strived— this is why we exist.

"Let us go and do our jobs as well as they may be done.

"I am infinitely proud of all of you— now go and show the enemy _why_ I am proud of you."

"Team One, garage!" Buffy called. "Move it!"

"Team Two, transport two!" I shouted. "Let's go, people!"

I grabbed Sh'rin and kissed her hard but quick, did the same for Ballard, while the other team leaders called orders, Whitey kissed Chantelle and Sunrise and Elaine kissed people goodbye.

Then we went to the garage, and the big, freaky-looking, half-RV-half-Armored Personnel Carrier vehicle that would take us to our entry point. The START people were already loaded in— and Graham sat in the driver's seat of our vehicle.

"Good evening, ma'am," Graham said with a straight face.

"Knock that off!" I said, taking the— well, it felt like the freaking co-pilot's seat, honestly, this thing was huge and complex. "Ma'am my ass!"

"Get used to it," Graham said. "Giles took the gig with conditions— and one of those was that a Slayer was in command of every team. That's you. You have no rank, so my people are going to call you ma'am."

I thought for a second, gave Graham a grin as he wheeled us out of the underground garage and up into the State Farm parking lot, and leaned around to look into the back of the vehicle. Calling on knowledge attained through comic books and novels, I gave my first orders.

"Listen up!" I called. "All START personnel— effective immediately, we are under 'Nam rules— no rank to pinpoint commander. You will not call me 'ma'am,' you will call me 'Rose.' Understood?"

"Yes, Rose," they all chorused.

"Good job," I said, and turned back to Graham. "Win!"

He laughed and nodded, and got us out onto Oakland Avenue, and a mostly-straight shot to the building where Amy was working her spell.

_Interlude:_

"All right," Amy said, looking at the sacrificial table and the bound and terrified little girl on it. "Everything's ready. Willow and her friends have found where we are.

"It's on you, now, lover. You have to keep them away until I can complete the sacrifice."

"With the army you built up for me? No problem, Amy." Claudia grinned. "Add in the stuff the purr-boys made for us, and we've got them out classed, out matched, and out done."

"Yes, I'd agree to that," Amy said. "Best idea you've had in a while was having me kill every one of those assholes that came up with our boys, Claudia. No more of them, and no one to rat us out or come looking for us."

"Thanks, hon," Claudia said. "Okay— I'm going to get out where I can see them coming. You take care— and take down the witch."

"That's the plan," Amy said. "Go kill yourself some Slayers."

"I'm all over that," Claudia said, and turned to go and start her killing spree.

Amy turned back to the rack of medical instruments laid out on a table next to the altar she'd built for this sacrifice, and smiled at the terrified girl on the table.

"Okay, sweetie," Amy said to the girl, "this is gonna sting a bit."

She reached for an antique scalpel to start her unspeakable work— and she hummed a little tune while she did so.

_Rose:_

The vehicle that Buffy and her team were in moved along a block and a half or so in front of us, and at the intersection of Oakland and Gridley, they turned north, then west again on Jackson, and out into a big, vacant area that stretched out before and under the twin overpasses of Main and Center streets.

They got about halfway across when the ground erupted in front of their vehicle, and something alive sprang out, slammed headfirst into the APC, and actually _knocked it backwards!_

"Oh, crap," I said, staring at the demon-monster-thing a block or so away. It had to be twice the size of the vehicles we were in, and was built along the lines of a bear, if a bear had a long tail, spiked like that of a stegosaurus. "Get us closer, then we stop and help— they'll need it."

Graham brought us closer until we'd gotten maybe forty yards off, and braked to a halt.

"All out, Team Slayer first, Whitey, identify that thing, Sunrise, ward Transport One if you can," I said. "Move!"

I got out myself, and grabbed Whitey as he got out. "Know what it is?" I asked.

"Brunalept," Whitey said. "No banes, tough as hell. We're in for a fight."

"Especially since there's a second one coming out of that hole!" Lissette said. "FUBAR-city!"

Which is when a car braked to a halt on top of the overpass, and a bunch of people got out, of course.

"Shit!" I said. "Sightseers, dammit!

"Graham, anyone of your people got a rocket launcher?"

"Close enough," Graham said. "Armstead! Front and center!"

A well built young man with a funky-looking rifle appeared beside us. "Orders, Graham?"

"Frag that thing," Graham said, pointing at the nearer of the two Brunalept demons. "He'll open his mouth to roar a challenge any second now— PEZ him."

I blinked. PEZ him? Hit him with a piece of candy from a spring-loaded dispenser?

"Yes, Graham," Armstead said. He turned to face the Brunalepts, who now stood shoulder to shoulder, the second one now nosing Team One's APC.

"Oh, that ain't good," Faith said from behind me. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

"Just watch," Armstead said, sighting down the barrel of his weapon. "Gonna give him a piece of candy."

About that time, the first Brunalept, the one that had hit Team One's Armored Personnel Carrier, opened its mouth and roared a huge, hideous challenge.

"Cherry PEZ, on the way!" Armstead said— and his weapon let out an oddly flat 'whump' sound, spat smoke and a missile of some sort. The missile went neatly into the demon's mouth, and it swallowed in surprise.

Two seconds later, there came a muffled explosion, and the Brunalept belched smoke and flame— then fell over sideways with a crash.

"Sweet!" Faith said. "That's some nice shooting, guy!"

"Thanks," Armstead said. "Uh-oh— second one looks kinda pissy…."

The second Brunalept sort of half-reared up on its hind legs— and one of the idiot sightseers on the bridge jumped on its neck, holding a spear of some kind.

"Oh, shit," I said. "Stupid damned civilians!"

The guy on the demon's back drove his spear deep into the back of the Brunalept's neck— impossibly deep, unless the guy was super-human or the Brunalept super-soft right there— and the thing went nuts, thrashing and rearing and trying to get at the spear. The guy slid off of its neck and ran towards us at speeds that let me know he _probably_ wasn't human— and as he ran, the Brunalept gathered itself and charged after him, moving at a slow lumber that still ate up ground because of its size.

"NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME!" the guy shouted as he ran— and one of the people on the bridge aimed a box at the Brunalept and did… something.

There was an explosion, pretty loud and very messy, from the Brunalept's neck as the spear went up like a couple of sticks of dynamite. It staggered a couple of more steps, then fell on it's side while the guy slowed to a trot and kept coming at us. I stepped out as he stopped and stabbed my finger into his chest.

"You are an IDIOT!" I yelled. "You could have been killed, you imbecile! In case you didn't notice, that was a damned monster, and it could swallow you whole, trick spear or no! What are you, retarded!"

"Hey, I killed it, didn't I?" he said, backing up a step. "And it's not like I'm Joe Normal, kid, I'm—"

"Don't you call me kid!" I snarled. "I'm in charge of this group, and since May I've killed my share of demons, vampires and even helped off a freaking dragon!"

"Yeah, don't call her 'kid,' she's a team leader— and Buffy handed her the job," Faith said.

"Oh, hey, Faith," the guy said. "Buffy made her a Team Leader? Isn't she a little young for the job?"

"Young, maybe, but she's good," Faith said. "I'd follow her, if that tells you anything."

"Excuse me, but if I could interrupt the reunion moment," I said, "who the hell are you, mister!"

"Angel!" Buffy yelled from back by her teams now-useless APC.

"Oh," I said, looking up at the guy. "Buffy's other ex. The vampire dude. That explains a lot."


	77. Chapter 77

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 77

_Elaine:_

Angel. Vampire with a soul. Buffy's first big love. Champion of the Powers. And kind of a hunk….

"Hey, Angel," Faith said, stepping towards him and speaking in a low, urgent voice. "Buffy's… she's dating someone. Don't push, okay?"

"Yeah," Angel said in a low voice, sort of hurt. "Yeah, okay. Anybody I know?"

"Xander," Faith said— and Angel blinked in surprise.

"Well, okay," Angel said. "He's carried a torch for her for a long time, I don't know why it surprises me."

"Neither do I," Rose said. "But that you aren't freaking? Points.

"I'm Rose Killian." She offered her hand, and Angel shook it— then Buffy was there, Xander and the rest of her team trailing her.

"Angel, you nut!" Buffy said, stopping in front of him. "That thing could have swallowed you whole!"

"Yeah, but it would have been a serious case of indigestion," Angel said. "How you doing, Buffy?"

"Been better, been worse," she said. "Listen, Angel— no time, okay? Amy Madison's about to open—"

"The granddaddy of all Hellmouths, yeah," Angel said. "Hey, Xander, hey, Giles. Willow, good to see you again."

"Angel," Xander said in a voice that surprised me with the friendliness in it. "Gotta admit— your timing is good. Thanks for the save."

"No problem," Angel said. He looked behind us at the big old convertible that was pulling in next to my team's transport. "My people are here— Buffy, you've never met most of them, but Willow knows them, at least a little. Maybe she could help figure out who to put where— we're here to help, and I guess that means taking orders. I can do that."

Ended up with Angel assigned to Faith's team, this incredibly cute little self-proclaimed science geek named Fred (who'd built the spear Angel used to kill the Brunalept) assigned to Buffy's team, an empathic demon named Lorne assigned to Vi, this really handsome Black guy named Gunn on Bree's team, a former Watcher named Wesley Wyndham-Pryce on Satsu's team, and this blonde lady ex-cop named Kate assigned to us.

"Okay, folks— old home week later," Buffy said, hefting the Scythe and shouldering it. "Angel… thanks.

"Now, let's get it done!"

"No problem, Buffy," he said. "Lead on, Faith."

Buffy and her team started for the building again, going straight across the open area and under the overpasses. Rose took us all up to Oakland avenue, to go down and come up from the other side of Amy's building, the lady Kate moving beside her, listening and nodding while Rose talked.

We moved at a quick jog, crossed Main on Oakland— and as we went past the La Gondola Spaghetti house, a double ass-load of vampires came pouring out of the alley beside it, roaring and screaming as they waded into us.

I went into the Ginga, kicked the first one to come close enough twice in the head, then staked it. Rose had entered Captain Cuisinart mode, her sword spinning and slashing with a speed that had to be seen to be believed. Then Kate Lockley, the ex-cop, raised her revolver and shot one as it got close— and it dusted! Hell of a gun, that!

We ended the vampires fairly quickly— Linnea got five with her halberd, the girl had gotten deadly— and Rose said, "Take a minute, reload or recover weapons, as needed, but don't dawdle."

"Kate, how did you kill the vamps you did with a gun?" I asked, as Rose came over to ask the same thing.

"Special bullets," Kate said, grinning an absolutely feral grin. "Modified Glaser Safety Slugs. Bullet's just a thin shell, filled with liquid Teflon and number twelve birdshot, in normal slugs. Mine… holy water and tiny wooden beads about the size of number twelve shot. Expensive, but worth it."

"Nifty," Rose said. "Your idea?"

"Yeah, I got into this after I got fired— Angel sets a hell of an example, I decided to follow it— and had the slugs made," Kate said. "I left LA, set up in Denver, and when Angel and his people called and asked me to come here with them… I thought I could maybe do some damage."

"Definitely, and thanks," Rose said. She looked around, saw everyone standing ready and said, "Okay, let's move. Me on point, Kate-the-PI with me, Kate-the-Slayer and Graham on drag."

We got to the west door of Amy's building with no more surprises, and Rose looked it over, then called Sunrise forward.

"Can you tell if this thing's magically trapped?" Rose asked.

"Should be able to," Sunrise said. She took a piece of chalk from a fanny-pack, drew on the ground in front of the door for a minute, then whispered a spell. The door lit up a bright red, and Sunrise said, a soft, "Whoa! Okay, yeah, trapped— serious mojo, not sure what it's supposed to do— summon something from another dimension, or banish people who go through it into another dimension. One of those."

"Just the door, though?" Rose asked.

"Just the door," Sunrise said, looking doubtfully at the lowest windows on the building, which were on the third story, more than twenty feet up.

"No problem," Rose said. "Graham? Need a hole in the wall, here. Can you help?"

"McCammon, Lumley, do your thing," Graham said. "Double wide."

A guy and a girl in START uniforms came forward, each carrying an aerosol can. They sprayed a thick foam, like shaving cream, from the cans, making a big rectangle, maybe ten feet wide by seven feet tall, then stepped back. The girl— Lumley, her nametag said— produced a little electronic device, stuck it to the wall, and ran wires from it to the already-dried foam.

"Everyone step back and sideways, please," Lumley said. "There may be shrapnel."

We all got clear, and she pressed a button on what I took (correctly) to be a detonator, and went sideways herself. Ten seconds later, the foam exploded, and cut a neat, rectangular door in the wall.

Immediately, demons poured out of it, a type unfamiliar to me, short and squat, powerful-looking, like weightlifters who'd started out six and a half feet tall, and been compressed down to five feet. No necks, bullet heads, bright blue skin— and muscles on their muscles. There looked to be about a dozen of them, and we surged forward—

Until Whitey screamed, "RETREAT! RETREAT, DAMMIT! START, COVER FIRE!"

"RETREAT!" Rose yelled, trusting Whitey— and we did, the START people laying down heavy fire— and showing us what Whitey meant by screaming retreat. Every bullet that hit the things caused a detonation of some sort, and to illustrate the point, Whitey lobbed a rock at one, very gently— and got the same effect.

We got behind the old office building across the street, and under an overhang at the back of it, the explosive demons coming slowly but steadily after us.

"Lumley, McCammon!" Rose yelled. "Rig the overhang to drop! Can you make it into a sort of angle? Like a lean-to? Radio detonate, not timed?"

"On it!" Lumley yelled. "Graham, leg up— we need on top for the lean-to effect!"

Graham made a step from his hands and lifted Lumley, while Slayer-Kate got McCammon up the same way.

"Down to the corner," Rose said as the START soldiers finished. "One guy with a PEZ dispenser back to the building east of this one, go the long way, don't be seen.

"The overhanging roof drops, lean-to-covering the demons— and they get simultaneous PEZ shots from both sides— hopefully, the explosions drive them into each other, and they blow each other to hell."

"Damn," Kate-the-cop said respectfully. "No wonder you're in charge. Good idea."

"Damned good," Whitey said. "Noklis demons are bad karma— this is the best way to destroy them that I can imagine. Lots better than anything in the books, Rose— well done."

"Let's just hope it works," Rose said, looking pleased, but still concerned.

It did. The Noklis demons came lumbering after the big group of us, Lumley dropped the roof over them— and Armstead and a soldier named Brooks nailed them from either side with fragmentation grenades from their grenade launchers. The resultant explosions killed all the Noklis, and brought down the building across from Amy's completely.

"Damn, Rose," Graham said. "You have _got_ to join the Army!"

"Nah, not my style," Rose said. "I'd call some general an ass-goblin, and that would be it— I'd be on KP until hell froze over, possibly literally.

"Lumley, McCammon, Brooks, Armstead— if the word of a civilian specialist counts at all, you're getting commendations, that was freaking perfect.

"Now, let's go get Amy and her little bitch."

We went back and towards the entrance to Amy's building that we'd carved, and I wondered how the others were doing.

_Interlude, Team One:_

"Okay, this is getting old," Buffy said as Willow shook her head at the third of three doors that they'd found, all heavily magically trapped. "Wil needs to save her mojo for dealing with Amy, so… Any thoughts?"

"Blow a hole in the wall," Xander said. "When you can't see a door— make one."

"I like that idea," Buffy said. "Any takers?"

"We'll get it," Riley said. "Johns, Corbett— make a hole. Double-wide for easy entry."

"This is certainly a bit of work," Giles said as the two START soldiers used their spray-can explosive. "Amy's more paranoid than I would have thought, even."

"She's got reason to be paranoid," Buffy said. "Wouldn't you be, if Wil and I wanted you dead in the worst way?"

"Ah, yes," Giles said. "I certainly see your point."

They retreated a little, and Riley's people blew a hole in the wall— and Noklis demons poured out.

"Back away!" Giles said. "These things are explosive on contact! BACK AWAY!"

"This is not going well," Buffy muttered as she retreated. "I hope the others are doing better than we are!"

At that moment, from somewhere behind them, in the unnatural gloom under the overpasses, Buffy heard Faith scream.

_Interlude, Team Three:_

Keeping the backs of Team One clear was not turning out to be an easy job. Faith's team had a job and a half ahead of them, and it hadn't gone well at all so far.

Already, three Start soldiers and a Danish Slayer had gone down under a massive assault by demons that reminded Faith of Freddy Krueger, small, muscular, fast as hell, and with claws that extended four to six inches from the ends of their fingers, were razor sharp, and pretty much unbreakable. Add in that the things had tough hide, barely penetrable by the military guys' bullets, and the things became a major pain in the ass.

They'd beaten the things off by going hand to hand, swords and knives accomplishing what bullets, fists and feet could not, and promptly, a horde of freaking vampires had popped up, before Faith could even decide what to do about the dead from her team.

The vampires had something else with them, something that didn't move right or feel right to be a vampire— a big guy with black hair, a build that Conan-era Arnold Schwarzenegger would be proud of, and the grace and speed of a jungle cat. He seemed to be in charge, and he was a hell of a tactician. Faith started trying to work her way to the guy, Angel right behind her, keeping the vampires off of her back— but someone else from her team beat her there.

Robin Wood, the man she'd finally admitted to herself that she loved some months ago, beheaded a vampire near the big guy, kicked another aside, and slashed his blade across the big guy's chest, cutting away the ballistic armor and drawing a line of blood across the guy's chest.

The guy snarled, almost roared, and flexed his fingers in a weird way. Claws popped out of the tips of his fingers, big-cat-like claws, and Faith recognized them, knew what the guy was— he was like Vincent, one of the later versions of the big guy, a homicidal freak.

"Robin, back off!" Faith yelled, and started fighting that way. "Back off, he's like Vincent!"

Robin tried. He backpedaled, sword up and moving in short, defensive movements— and the big guy suddenly slapped his hands together on either side of the blade, twisted, disarmed Robin—

Faith kicked aside the three vampires in her way, charged towards Robin and the super-soldier —

— and the super-soldier, moving so fast that Robin probably never even saw it coming, reached out and grabbed Robin Wood's head and twisted it savagely, breaking his neck.

Faith heard the crunch of snapping vertebrae, saw Robin drop to the ground, chest up but face down, and she froze for a moment— then threw back her head and screamed.

_Interlude, Team Four and Five:_

An army of gargoyle-like demons had assaulted Wood Hill towers, two low-rent apartment towers just south and east of Amy's building, and Vi and Satsu, knowing that the largely-senior-citizen population of the towers had no way of defending themselves, had taken their respective teams to the buildings to do what they could. Satsu's group had the inside, and Vi's the outside, since she had four archers, including Chantelle Penobscot, a virtual goddess with a ranged weapon.

Satsu's team had split twice, two teams of six (three from Team Slayer, and three from START) working up from the bottom floor and down from the top floor in each building, killing all the gargoyles that they could, and moving to meet in the middle.

Vi's group had spread out and started fighting as best they could, archers and soldiers picking off the gargoyles as fast as they could, other Slayers going after those who came to the ground, wounded or otherwise.

"Vi!" shouted the demon Lorne, who wasn't much in a fight, but was hellacious good at helping her direct forces. "Blind panic on the first floor, east tower, and the team's already gone up!"

"On it, thanks!" Vi yelled. "Elise! Chelsea! Private Sutter! With me! Chantelle, you're in charge here!"

"I got it, Vi!" Chantelle called. "Incoming, northwest— concentrate fire there!"

Vi led her mini-team inside the tower, followed the screams to an apartment on the east side of the tower, and kicked in the door. Five gargoyles were terrorizing a little old lady and six kids, and an old man lay dead in the corner of the living room.

Vi waded in, the battle axe she'd chosen flashing all around her, saw Chelsea— sweet kid, and scary for her size— making mayhem with a pair of short swords, Elise beating a gargoyle with her crutches— amazing, how she didn't let wasted legs stop her— and the moose-like Private Sutter shoving his pistol into a gargoyle's gaping mouth and firing three rapid shots.

They cleaned up, headed back outside after helping the woman and children to a nearby, un-broached apartment. They hadn't gone three steps from the doors when a gargoyle swooped down, grabbed Elise Morgan under the arms, flew towards YMCA gym across the street, accelerating as only a supernatural creature could, then let her go and peeled up only a few feet from the wall.

The spray of broken brick and human blood told Vi that she'd just suffered her team's first loss, even as Chelsea wailed "ELISE!"

Chantelle whipped around, saw the gargoyle arrowing back towards Vi, Chelsea and Sutter, shouted, "Oh, you BASTARD!" and put an arrow in the thing's eye, killing it instantly.

"Dammit!" Vi said, trying not to sob and managing it, if only barely. "Sutter, pass the word— watch for grab-and-drop attacks.

"Chelsea—"

"I'm okay," the girl sobbed. "I'm fighting, won't stop no matter what you say!"

"Okay, back-to-back with me, then," Vi said. "Let's do it, kiddo."

They waded back into the battle.

_Interlude, Team Six:_

"Team Three is taking heavy losses," called a START soldier. "Four and Five are in the thick and nasty, but holding."

"We back up Three," Brianne said. "Helena, you're my eyes, Gunn, you're right behind us."

"You got it," Charles Gunn said. "Damn— girl, you hadn't told me you couldn't see, I'd never have guessed. You should have played Daredevil— Affleck sucked."

"I can't say much on that," Bree said, her voice amused. "I didn't see it, you know?"

"Damn, I'm dumb," Gunn muttered, following Bree and Helena away from the transports at a jog.

They hit the battle between Team Three and a huge and scary number of vampires in less than a minute, and Bree knew it was bad from the first, because she heard Faith screaming as she fought, mindless, wordless screams that punctuated her every blow. Angel was shouting her name, fighting towards her, but the vampires kept packing in around her, trying to overwhelm the reformed Slayer with sheer weight of numbers.

"We break the group on Faith," Bree said. "Slayers, on me— START, reinforce your people, give us a perimeter!"

Helena started towards Faith, Brianne's hand pressed lightly to her back, Gunn moving right behind Bree, determined not to let this group get overwhelmed as the vamps were trying to do to Faith. He kept his sword at the ready, used it to cut and injure vamps, not kill them, to make a path and let the Slayers behind them do the work of killing the demons.

They broke the outer ring, Helena using the stake at the end of her prosthetic arm with brutal efficiency, and hit the inner ring of more densely packed vampires. There was a little dead space there in the inner ring, and Gunn saw a dead guy, massive but bloody as hell, laying there on the ground. Helena went to step over him, and his eyes snapped open, his left hand flashed up and his claws tore through the leather pants she wore, opening the flesh on the inside of her thigh— and blood fountained out, even as Gunn drove his sword down through the guy's neck.

"Helena!" Brianne said, following the other girl down as she collapsed. "MEDIC!"

A START medic dropped next to Helena, muttering and moving with desperate speed— and Bree stood straight, ignoring the tears on her face, said, "Gunn! You're my eyes— let's go."

They took two steps, heard the medic cry, "What the hell!"— and a pair of gunshots.

"What?" Brianne asked as Gunn looked back.

"Thing still wasn't dead," Gunn said in awed tones. "I took his head half off— and he still tried to kill the medic. Guy shot him twice in the head, though— he's dead now, his brains are all over the ground."

"Helena?" Bree asked.

Gun watched as the medic took off his jacket and draped it over the fallen Slayer's face, shook his head, then remembered that Bree couldn't see that. "She didn't make it— that thing got her femoral artery in more than one place. I'm sorry, Bree."

"Then we'd better pay the ferryman for her," Brianne said, ignoring her tears. "Let's get started."

Brianne staked a vampire to her left, kicked one down in front of her, and started working her way closer to the still-screaming, still-fighting Faith.

_Interlude, START HQ:_

"Lieutenant Chambers!" called one of the clean-cut young men to Ethan's left. "Seers Six and Nine have shared a vision— you'd better hear this, sir."

Chambers, a slender young man whom Ethan Rayne sometimes played poker with, came over to the console, and the young Specialist who'd called him hit a button.

"The Watcher who wears the demon's mark is doomed to die without his brother's aid," a girl's voice said, and then a boy's voice added, "Only the water can save the rebel."

Then both voices in chorus said, "If the rebel falls the Prime cannot be far behind, and the Old Ones return becomes assured."

"Bloody _hell!"_ Ethan said with a sigh. "This is not bloody fair!"

"You have an idea what they're talking about?" Chambers said, looking around at Ethan.

"Tragically, yes," Ethan said. "Rick, Rupert Giles wears the mark of the demon Eyghon, as I once did. He and I… well, we once each considered the other a brother."

"And Giles was considered something of a rebel among the Watchers," Rick Chambers said, seeing where this was going. " 'Only the water can save the rebel.' Rayne. Water."

"Yes," Ethan said. He stood, slowly and reluctantly. "Can I get a bit of armor, a very large gun and a ride to the battlefield, please?"


	78. Chapter 78

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 78

_Interlude, McLean County Law and Justice Center:_

The circle of cops around her news team was getting thin, and Cheryl Upton, a young reporter for Channel 25 News in Peoria, had long since passed worry and edged up on panic— but she did her job. She reported the news, sent out the footage of a tremendous number of cops, corrections officers and even convicts, as they battled the insane and hideous monsters that had swarmed the Law and Justice Center while Cheryl and her team were there to cover the jury selection for an upcoming trial of a police officer charged with murdering a suspect.

"Some of these creatures seem completely impervious to bullets," Cheryl said to the camera, then turned towards the ring of defenders, the camera following her to show a bunch of corrections officers and convicts fighting with improvised weapons against some sort of monkey-creatures that had no skin. "Yet almost all seem to take damage from melee weapons, even punches and kicks.

"There have been a great many rumors of something supernatural happening here in the Twin Cities since a series of incidents last October, when several monsters right out of the popular role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons repeatedly infested Bloomington High School, taking the lives of a student and a custodian, and causing a great deal of damage to the gymnasium and pool.

"It seems that the rumors were certainly true— and that things have escalated sharply."

Something shook the ground. Cheryl whipped around towards the source of the shaking, saw four people standing up from crouches over near the doors to the Law and Justice center, each wearing a lot of black leather. At the front was a large, bald, black man holding a naked katana, behind him a pair of women, one black, one white, and an Asian man. They all looked confused for a moment, and the black man with the katana said, "What the hell…?"

Then demons came at them, broke through the line behind them, and the four almost seemed to blur into action, fighting like mad, with incredible martial arts skills, impossible acrobatics, and the black man with the katana cutting through every demon he swung at with a single swipe.

"Where the hell are we!" the white woman shouted as she kicked a vampire so hard that it flew backwards at least a dozen yards.

"I don't know!" the black man answered. "It may be some sort of a trap program— just fight, Trinity, we'll figure it out after we live through it!"

"I did _not_ just hear that Lawrence-Fishburne-looking guy call the hot white chick Trinity!" Cheryl's cameraman, Joey, said.

Cheryl didn't get a chance to answer. As she opened her mouth to do so, a large, handsome man— he looked like a young Timothy Dalton, but had the build of a professional boxer, wore a renaissance period outfit of black and silver, and held a naked saber in his hand— appeared out of nowhere beside her.

"What the hell —?" Cheryl gasped.

"This looks like the place," the man said. "Excuse me, madam— I have friends ready to come through and help. Do you mind moving just a few feet to the right? Yes, thank you."

The man held up his left hand to the air— and suddenly, another man seemed to appear in the space there, looking two-dimensional for a second, then filling out as he stepped forward. He wore beautifully crafted leather armor in red, orange and brown, and a huge ruby dangled from a silver chain, lay on his chest.

As the second man became three-dimensional, others came holding that one's hand, another man in silver and black, who bore a strong resemblance to the first, a woman with green hair and olive skin, a one-armed man in orange, yellow and brown, a small and devastatingly beautiful redheaded woman in a green dress trimmed in lavender and purple, a man in white scale-mail armor that looked more porcelain than metal, a massive and powerful-looking man in blue and gray, and a woman in green and gray.

"Corwin, Merlin," the small man in leather armor, the second one through, said, "you two have spent enough time in similar shadows to this— make nice with the local cops. Fiona, see what you can come up with for magic support. The rest of you, do as Benedict says.

"Dammit, I hate it when a shadow gets invested with this much reality and gets all important!"

With that, the little man smiled at Cheryl, said, "Relax, lady— we're professionals."

Then he walked off after the two men in black and silver, who were talking to the highest ranking cop that they could find.

"Joey?" Cheryl said, forgetting that she was live. "What the hell is going on?"

"You got me," Joey said. "Just report, Cheryl— later, we'll get very, very confused."

Cheryl Upton shook herself, and looked into the camera again.

_Rose:_

It wasn't very long at all before I had to do what Giles had prepared my team for; we barely got inside before I had to split them up, so that we had some chance of distracting that goddamned bitch Amy and her pets— because she had prepared too well for us to make it in as a group.

I figured it out when Linnea, my sweet, hurt-but-getting-better, sort-of-adopted sister Linnea, got killed.

We went in the hole we'd made in the wall of Amy's building, and I had to choose left or right. Left led to a hall going east, right to a door going east and another hall going east. I chose right, wanting more options, and started that way with Linnea right behind me, halberd in hand but held vertical.

I stopped in front of the door, looked around to call Sunrise up for a magic reading— and heard something from above. I didn't look up, just pushed Linnea back, and jumped back myself. I fell, stepped on a bottle that rolled out from under my foot and dumped me on my ass.

A tall, powerfully built, obsidian-skinned demon of some sort dropped where I'd been, facing Linnea— and it lunged forward. She got her halberd down, wedged it in the thing's gut, held it for a second— then the thing grabbed the handle of the halberd where it stuck out of it's gut, even as I scrambled to my feet— and it jerked upwards on the shaft of Linnea's weapon, slamming her against the ceiling so hard that a heavy wooden beam actually broke when Linnea's head hit it.

But Linnea broke, too.

She fell to the ground in a boneless heap, and I leaped forward, rammed my longsword into the back of the demon's neck, jerked it out sideways, shoved the body aside and dropped next to Linnea. Her head….

I can't. I can't describe it, not even now.

Her neck and head were both broken, and she was dead.

"Oh, god," I whispered. "Oh, god, no!"

"Rose—" Elaine said, and laid a hand on my shoulder.

"No," I said. I swallowed my tears, forced them down, made them into fury, made them into hate. "No comfort. Not now. Not yet.

"Graham! Get her body out. I won't have her buried— when I bring this miserable dump down around that _bitch_ Madison's ears!"

Graham came forward himself, draped his jacket over Linnea's upper body and head, lifted her and carried her out while I stood and shook and fought the tears, made them into the hate I needed to go on.

A voice came from somewhere above, a mocking, hateful voice.

"One down, nine to go!" called a girl. "Come on, Rosie— come and let me show you what the word Slayer _really_ means!"

Rosie. She called me Rosie.

I goddamned hate that name. That, more than anything else, gave me the ability to pull it together, to go on.

Graham came back in, and I made my decision.

"Sara," I said. "You're in charge. Go in and up— make a ruckus, keep your people alive, and get to Amy if you can.

"Sunrise— have you got anything like Willow and Sh'rin's 'unnoticed' spell that you can hit Elaine and I with?"

"Just like it," Sunrise said. "I had Sh'rin teach me."

"Hit me and Elaine with it, please," I said. "Then you go with the others— keep them safe, keep them alive."

"What are you planning, Rose?" Sunrise asked.

"Coming in a different way," I said. "You guys keep going, odds are we won't be noticed until it's too late."

"Are you sure this is the wisest course, Rose?" Whitey asked.

"Yes," I said. "Amy's set for a group, Whitey, she has defenses in place. Sara— she's 'the Defender,' to the Guardians of Sh'rin's time. She'll get you through this shit-hole alive, it's in her nature.

"While she does that, Elaine and I will come in another way and take out any of Amy's lieutenants that we can find.

"This is why she and I are here, Whitey— and it's what the Powers That Be meant for us to do."

"All right," Whitey said. He smiled a little, said, "But you two be careful. I'm not about to tell Giles that something happened to the two of you."

"Noted," I said. "Sunrise?"

She hesitated, then bent and kissed me lightly, turned and did the same to Elaine. "Love you guys— be careful."

"Love you, too," I said.

"Lots," Elaine said. "We'll be careful, Sunrise."

She nodded, cast a short, simple spell— then nodded.

"It's done. No one and nothing will notice you until you're in their face." She took a deep breath, then added, "But kicking in doors and stuff, that counts as 'in their face,' okay?"

"Got it," I said. "Good luck, all of you. Sara— take care of them. Jenna, if something happens to Sara, it's on you."

"I'll take care of them," Sara said.

"And I'll make sure she doesn't have to pass command to me," Jenna said. "I don't like being in charge, so I'll keep her healthy."

"Good enough," I said. "Okay— go, people."

They filed past us as we stepped against the wall, and Whitey and Graham each squeezed my shoulder as they passed.

"So… how are we getting in?" Elaine said as I led the way out, trying (and failing) not to look at the place where Graham had laid Linnea's body.

"Well, I sort of thought we might act like Batman and Robin," I said.

"What, scale the walls?" Elaine asked. "I left my batarang at home, sorry."

"Me, too," I said. "But Elaine… there's this overpass right next to the other side of this building, and it's actually a little higher than the third floor windows…."

She looked at me like I'd lost my mind for a second or two, then shook her head, smiled just a little, and said, "Lead on, caped crusader."

_Interlude, Team One:_

Buffy watched with grim approval as Riley and Xander took out the Noklis demons in a riot of sound and fury, letting the rest of Team One lead the slow-moving demons on a little— then lobbing two well-timed grenades just to either side of the group, sending them caroming into each other as the grenades exploded, shoved them inwards with the force of the explosion.

Of course, it didn't do the Center Street overpass any good— the columns behind which Xander and Riley had hidden looked pretty bad after the explosions, in fact— but some things could not be helped.

"Okay, everyone in, established marching order," Buffy called, squeezing Xander's arm as he went past her. "Remember, Amy's paranoid— so we have to be, too.

"Sh'rin— anything on demon senses?"

"Yes— an overload," Sh'rin said. "I'm sorry, Buffy, there is too much, I can't separate it out."

"Okay, so we go in careful." She spun the Scythe around a hand idly, and said, "Let's get it done, people— by Giles's timetable, we have less than twenty minutes."

She went in first, as she had always done, and she and her team started working their way upwards to the place where Amy Madison worked her doomsday spell.

_Interlude, Teams Three and Six:_

The last of the vampires— running like hell itself pursued— dusted under a START soldier's crossbow bolt, and for a moment, something close to silence reigned.

"Robin," Faith said, dropping to kneel beside his body. "Robin, no. No, man, it can't— you can't _do_ this! You can't leave me! Goddamn it, you can't leave me!

"Everybody always leaves me, you aren't supposed to— god damn it!"

"Faith," Angel said as gently as he could. "Faith… there isn't time."

"Shut up," Faith said, her voice low. "Just shut up."

"He can't," Bree said. "You know he can't.

"Faith, we have to fight. Everything depends on it."

"I don't— shit!" She stood, slowly, took a deep breath, and said, "Yeah. Okay.

"Angel, you got senses— what's close that needs killing?"

"There's something coming from the north," Angel said. "Smells like demons, but I'm not familiar with the breed."

"How fast they coming?" Faith asked.

"Got maybe thirty seconds, at a guess," Angel said.

"Okay," Faith said. "Bree, your group spread out east, mine will spread west— suit?"

"Suits," Bree said. "You heard the lady— spread out."

They spread out in two gently curving lines— and fifteen seconds later, a horde of white-skinned, black-horned humanoid demons came charging out from between the retaining walls between the twin overpasses, all equipped with medieval melee weapons— and all screaming for blood.

"Let's party, you shits," Faith whispered— and waded in.

"I've got your back," Bree said softly— and moved to join Faith on the front lines. "For Helena. For Robin.

"Let's dance!"

_Interlude, Teams Four and Five:_

When things finally died down, Satsu and her people came out of the towers— but Satsu was carrying a body wrapped in a bedsheet, and weeping so hard she could hardly walk.

"Oh, damn," Vi said miserably, and went to meet the Japanese girl. "Who is it?"

Satsu set the body down as gently as she might a sleeping child, and wordlessly flipped back the sheet from the face.

"Rona," Vi said, shaking her head. "Oh, Rona— how did it happen?"

Satsu couldn't answer, but the Watcher from Angel's group, Wesley, said, "A gargoyle caught her off guard, and it— another pair had forced open the elevator doors, and it threw her down the shaft. I know it doesn't help much— but we killed all three."

"You're right, it doesn't help much— but it helps a little," Vi said. She bent and flipped the corner of the sheet back over Rona's face. "Sorry, Rona— but you did the job. For us… no better epitaph."

"I'm sorry," Satsu said. "I wish— there were so many civilians in danger. We couldn't watch everywhere."

"Not your fault," Vi said. She shook herself. "Comms! What's the next bad spot that's close?"

Corporal Edmunds, the START comm officer for Vi's group, answered, "The State Farm building downtown— seven blocks. Major incursion of Hurkulpo demons— a lot like an ogre from the fairy tale of your choice— and lots of casualties already."

"Everyone to the transports!" Vi yelled. "Satsu— you coming with us?"

"Yes," Satsu said. She stroked Rona's hair through the sheet one last time and stood. "It is the job, after all."

They headed for the transports at a run.

_Interlude, Ethan Rayne:_

Ethan looked doubtfully at Rick Chambers, said, "Are you sure you want to do this, Rick?"

"Ethan… I trust you," Rick said. "The seers say this is what has to be done, and we both know that if it isn't done, you'll die, too. Hell, I'd trust you even without that— you play killer poker, Ethan Rayne, but you never cheat.

"Besides, I can't spare anyone to escort you."

"I rather thought that might enter the equation sooner or later," Ethan said. "All right— well, it's been years since I rode anything so sporty as this, but I think I can handle it."

Ethan swung his leg over the seat of the Japanese racing motorcycle— painted a stylish gloss black, thank Chaos for small favors— and took the proffered helmet from Rick Chambers.

"All right," Ethan said, and pressed the starter. The bike purred to life, a quiet, throaty sound that promised much speed and more power— if Ethan dared to use it. "Do wish me luck, Rick."

"Good luck, Ethan," Lt. Chambers said. "Remember, straight out of the lot, right on Oakland at the T, and straight on 'til you see all hell being fought. Should be to your right after the second stop sign— not light, sign."

"I remember," Ethan said. He shifted the gun on his back, and sighed. "The things I'll do just to make a pseudo dragon that I barely know respect me— I must be daft."

With that, Ethan headed up the ramp and the lowered section of the parking lot of State Farm's corporate headquarters, off to save the life of a man he'd once called brother— and perhaps to save the world, while he was at it.

"By Janus!" Ethan shouted as he roared across the parking lot, "I may be daft— but at least I'm having some bloody fun!"

_Interlude, CNN News Crew, Downtown Normal:_

"Holy— Jake, what did we get ourselves into?"

Jake Tennant looked at his cameraman and said, "Well, I'm guessing maybe a Pulitzer, Wayne. Just a guess."

"You mean if we survive, right?" Wayne Galt muttered.

"That is sort of key, yes," Jake admitted. "Okay, it seems to have calmed down— enough to risk getting out, anyway. Ready?"

"Let's do it before I change my mind," Wayne said.

Jake rolled open the van's side door, and he and Wayne stepped out. Monsters roamed a parking lot across an open space, seemed to be gathering around a police station, where cops had set up barricades and were doing their best to defend themselves.

"This is Jake Tennant for CNN, reporting from downtown Normal, Illinois, where what appear to be supernatural creatures are roaming the streets, creating mass panic and causing much property damage— and loss of life." He stepped sideways a little bit, let Wayne's camera shoot past him. "As you can see, the police station here in Normal is under assault by monsters that defy description, creatures like no one has ever seen before."

"Excuse me, sir," said a calm, gentle, man's voice. "I think you need to get back in your vehicle. These… creatures, more of them are coming from down the street."

Jake glanced to his left, saw a bunch of humanoids— almost human, if not for their heavy brow ridges, yellow eyes and fangs— maybe two dozen of them, walking towards him and Wayne.

"More monsters are approaching," Jake said. "I think my cameraman and I are going to take the advice of the— holy hell in a handcart!"

He'd looked to see who had warned him and sounded so calm about the approach of a great many monsters. The light-brown-haired, blue-eyed man standing there wore a comfortable looking black tunic and trousers, boots and a belt with many pouches. The redheaded woman behind him wore a similar outfit in a green that matched her eyes, and the girl behind them, pale of skin, black-haired and with very blue eyes —

— and each of them held a light saber, right out of Star Wars.

"Jerica, you and Mara stay close," the man said. "We may have to meld."

"Yes, Master Luke," the girl said— and produced a second light saber, ignited it, and said, "May the Force be with us."

The three moved forward to meet the suddenly-charging monsters— and Jake and Wayne stood there, filming them as they cut through the oncoming monsters as easily as— well, as easily as a light saber through butter.

"Pulitzer? Maybe," Wayne said after a moment. "Nebula Award?

"We're a shoo-in!"


	79. Chapter 79

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 79

_Elaine:_

We got to the overpass with no trouble at all— the unnoticed spell really worked well. We found a spot high enough to vault from and hit the third floor windows, and Rose, thinking well in spite of her pain, ran back down to street level and grabbed a few big rocks, came back up and used them to pre-break the windows we would be going through.

"Rose," I said softly as she paced off the distance we'd have to run, planning her tumbling run. "Rose… I know this could be bad. And I need to tell you… it's all been worth it.

"All the scary, all the bad, all the hurt… it's been worth it all, Rose.

"Because of you.

"Oh, the others, too. Sunrise, Sh'rin, Ballard, our family— all of them, they're all our family— they've made everything better, yes.

"But you've made everything perfect, Rose. Just… you."

She didn't say anything, just came to me and kissed me, hard and crazy-making. We stood there for a few more seconds, just holding each other, then she backed up a little, looked at me, and quirked a tiny little smile— more than I would have expected, after Linnea— and said, "I think it's time we put Amy's pet Slayer to sleep, love. You game?"

"Let's go," I said.

"I've got the left window, you're the right one," Rose said. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Then, ready… set… go!"

We ran at the railing on the edge of the overpass, pushed off the railing, and headed for the windows, me tucked into a ball, Rose in a pike, her lower weight and smaller size letting her get away with that. We passed through our windows, hit the floor inside and tumbled to bleed off our excess speed, stopping almost side-by-side some forty feet into the big, bare room we'd entered.

From the floor below we could hear fighting, shouts, gunshots and Sara's voice calling "Left flank, cover fire! Whitey, gimme some ID."

"That's our Defender," I said, approving. Sara sounded calm, in control, and I liked that.

"Yeah, she's a hell of a kid," Rose said. "Okay, so which—"

From the floor above came a gunshot, and from outside a scream— then another shot, and another scream.

"Up!" Rose said, and ran for the stairs.

We went up fast, not worrying about silent— the spell would cover that— and saw a pair of very large men standing at parade rest, legs comfortably spread, hands linked behind their backs. The one on the left could almost have been Vincent's twin, save that his hair looked darker, and the one on the right had gorgeous auburn hair.

Behind them was a blond girl, standing in the window and firing a rifle out and down. It was a big rifle— I don't know guns well enough to ID it— and it kicked hard with every careful shot.

The girl wore lots of leather, and her hair had been twisted into a practical-looking knot at the nape of her neck. I could see, even from across the room, that the leather had thicker places in it, like it had been reinforced somehow.

"Elaine— hit her from here," Rose said softly. "But wait until I'm close to the super-soldiers to do it, then come in and help with them, or her, or whatever."

I nodded, and Rose moved casually across the floor, stopped with her sword back and ready next to the super-soldier who looked more like Vincent, and nodded at me.

I pulled a stake from a pouch pocket on my cargo pants, cocked my arm— and let fly.

I'm not Chantelle, but I can throw a stake. It hit the girl in the back of the head, blunt end first, just as she fired again. She jerked— and dropped the rifle out the window.

Even as Amy's pet Slayer— it was her, I knew even before she turned around— turned around, Rose had beheaded the one super-soldier and engaged the other. I moved that way, but Rose… she had thought her attack out, and even as I stepped towards her, she kicked the second super-soldier in the nads, spun, bringing her blade around in a swift, tight arc— and beheaded him, too.

"I'll be damned," Amy's Slayer said. "You really are pretty good, little girl.

"And you, back by the stairs— not bad, but I'm _really_ going to enjoy killing you. Do you know how much I loved that gun? How hard it was to get it?"

"Do you know how dead you are?" Rose asked. "How bad it's going to be for you once you've died?

"I know there's an afterlife, bitch— and I know you're going to hell. Kennedy, that was bad. But she was an adult.

"Linnea Nolan, who I loved like a sister? She was just a little girl, you _bitch!_

"You're going to spend forever paying for her life— and I'm in kind of a hurry to see forever start!"

"Oh, please," the girl said, dancing a little in place, rocking her head from side-to-side to loosen her neck. "Look, let's do this at least a little right, okay?

"In this corner—" She raised her hands as though acknowledging the cheers of a crowd. "— we have Claudia Steele, standing five feet, five inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and twenty-five pounds. With master ranking in six different martial arts and belts in three others (having taken martial arts since she was three), Claudia is the odds-on favorite in tonight's bout!"

"I'm Rose Killian," Rose said, putting her sword in its sheath and sliding it across the floor towards the wall. "And I'm here to put your stupid, psychotic ass in the ground, Claudia Steele.

"We have this power for a reason— and you've corrupted it. We're here to clean it."

"I'm Elaine Marshall," I said, setting aside my own weapons and doing a sideways stretch or two. "And I'm with Rose.

"You're already dead, Claudia— and it's pretty much really personal."

"Let's dance!" Claudia said— and moved towards Rose at a blur.

That started the most intense battle of my life.

_Interlude, Team One:_

Buffy and the others got inside, and promptly fell under attack by a horde of vampires. Buffy, with little Delia fighting beside her, carrying her own weight and helping to protect Willow, too, soon stopped thinking, and just… fought.

It wasn't too long before they had things clear— and Buffy heard quiet sobbing near the back of the group, and Vincent's soft, "Oh, god— it should not be like this."

She charged to the back, pushing even her friends out of her way in her haste— and stared in horror.

Samantha Finn knelt beside the unmistakably dead body of her husband, Riley. A wooden stake, machine carved and smoothly perfect, protruded from his left eye— but only a little way. It had gone through to his brain, and killed him.

Buffy pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, tried to stifle her sudden sob— and failed. She felt hands on her shoulders, and Giles turned her away, pulled her against his chest for a moment, let her hang on to him— and let go when she pulled away.

"Samantha," Buffy said, her voice unsteady. "Sam… can you fight? Can you… go on?"

"Yes," Sam said, and stood up. "Yes. I want… a piece of her. Of Amy.

"I'll fight. It's… it's what Riley would want."

"All right," Buffy said. She took off her jacket, moved to Riley's body, draped the coat over his ruined face. "I'm sorry, Sam. So damned sorry."

That's when the floor underneath them shook, rumbled— then fell away, and they dropped into the basement.

_Interlude, Teams Two and One:_

"What was that?" Sara asked, and froze. She'd led the team past two big threats, a group of snake-like demons and a group of very strong, very quick zombies, and now she froze. The building had… shuddered.

"Explosives," said McCammon, one of the two demolitions experts on Team Two. "Below us— may be a bitch getting down."

"Oh, shit!" Sara said. "Team One is down there!

"Back to the stairs— money says they're in trouble, and Willow's with them. Without her, we're screwed!"

Whitey nodded sharply in approval, and the group turned and went back to the stairs. Sara led them down, Whitey covering her back, Jenna bringing up the rear with Graham. They reached the bottom of the stairs— and looked down into hell.

The first floor had dropped into the basement, and Team One was down there, under assault from some of the nastiest things that Sara had ever seen.

There looked to be about thirty or so of the monsters. They stood about seven feet tall, and had a vaguely centaur-like shape to them, four legs on a long, slime-covered body, with a prehensile tail as long as the body was, and an upright torso with a head— but instead of arms, these things had six long, bone-tipped tentacles, three on each side of the torso, and each about six feet long.

"In!" Sara shouted— and leaped, landing on the back of one that had just driven two of its bone spikes into Giles's chest and stomach. She split the thing's skull with her longsword, leaped off as it fell sideways, landed next to Giles's prone body, stood over him, and yelled, "WHITEY, SLAYER-KATE, LISSETTE! ON ME!" She then gave herself over to her fighting, to protecting Giles, to Defending him from all comers.

It was madness— and they weren't doing well. Those demons that didn't get taken by surprise turned out to be damned hard to kill. Even Buffy and the Scythe didn't seem to have a whole lot of luck.

Then, from the door above them, which led outside to the street level, came a gunshot— and a demon's head popped. Another shot, another pop— whoever it was had a much better angle for shooting, and didn't have to worry about a press of demons overwhelming them.

Then a voice raised itself over the shooting, screamed, "VIVIAN! NO!"

Vincent's voice, raised in a mixture of pain and rage— and Sara started to weep, but kept fighting.

Vincent dropped next to the love of his life, tried to see a way to save her— but her intestines lay around and beneath her, and there was too much blood, some of it bubbling from her mouth.

"You… go on," Vivian said as he touched her cheek. "You have to go on, Vincent. You… are human. Humans go on. And… you're human."

"I can't, not without you!" Vincent said. "I can't! You have to stay, you have to live!"

"I can't, love," Viv gasped. "Oh, Vincent… you have to promise… go on. Get better. Love… someday. Love like… there's no tomorrow. Because… sometimes, Vincent… there isn't."

"Vivian, no, don't die!" Vincent wailed, sounding like a lost child. "You can't die!"

"Catherine died… and Vincent—" Vivian choked, coughed, spat a huge mouthful of blood. She reached up, touched his cheek. "Her Vincent went on. You go on. You… fight.

"Be sad, Vincent… but don't… don't be… broken.

"I love you. I always will… love you."

"I love you," Vincent choked. "I love you!"

Vivian's hand fell away from his cheek, her eyes closed— and she whispered, "And that made it all… worth this. Love… you."

With those words, she died.

Vincent stood slowly, like a mountain being raised by shifting tectonic plates— and about that impressive. He reached inside himself, found the programming that his makers had given him, pulled it into his mind, said three quiet words— "Enable final solution"— and became violence in human form.

He blurred. His claws sank into demon tentacles, tore them out by the roots, sank into throats, tore them out. He suffered a dozen cuts and stabs, two dozen, more— and never slowed. He killed demon after demon— and the figure above with the gun killed as well, and the Slayers and START soldiers had only to defend successfully until one or the other, Vincent or the man with the gun, could kill the demon harassing them.

Then, very suddenly, it was over.

"Giles!" Buffy shouted. "SAM! Get over here!"

The figure above sat in the doorway, then dropped into the room and ran towards Giles.

Willow went to Vincent. He stood over the last demon he'd killed, covered in blue-green demon blood, breathing like a blacksmith's bellows, and staring at his ichor-covered hands.

"Vincent… I know it hurts," Willow said softly. "I've felt it twice in the last couple of years, Vincent.

"It starts to hurt less, after a while. You don't forget— but you learn to accept the pain, to see past it— and see that things can still be good.

"You just have to hold on until the hurt becomes bearable. We'll all help… if you'll let us?"

"I will let you," Vincent said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Later. After the killing is done.

"For now… I need to kill demons."

"Okay," Willow said. "There's still work to be done."

"Yes." He shook himself, then took off his coat. "Yes."

He moved away to cover Vivian's face, and knelt there, holding her cooling hand, until such time as the group was ready to move on, to kill more demons.

"GILES!" Buffy shouted. "Dammit, Giles, NO! You stay here! You don't die, dammit!"

Willow moved that way, hurrying.

"Buffy… tell… Kelly." Giles gasped, and grabbed Buffy's hand. "Tell her… I love her. And I… tried. I—"

"Bloody hell!" Ethan Rayne said as Giles arched up off of the floor, groaning in agony. "Rupert, you really need to learn that you're too old for the front lines!"

"Dammit, Ethan, shut up!" Buffy snarled.

"Not in the plan, pet," Ethan said, tossing off his coat. "Samantha, keep him alive for another minute— I'll take it from there."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked.

"Rather simple, my dear," Ethan said. "When we summoned Eyghon, we happy few, we shared blood— became blood brothers and sisters, you see. Now, even with Eyghon gone, the bond remains— and can be used.

"So… I can share vitality with him. Bit of a risk, but… well, I suppose that's a bit of karma, don't you?"

Ethan tore his shirt sleeve off, and Buffy saw that the mark of Eyghon, which Ethan had once taken off of himself with a bit of acid, had come back, dim but recognizable.

"Well, I suspect this is going to hurt," Ethan said. He recited a spell, one Willow had never heard, and slashed open his palm with an army-issue knife. "Ow. All right, Rupert— here it comes."

Ethan pressed his bleeding hand to Giles's chest wound, and began chanting again.

_Interlude, Teams Three and Six:_

They beat down the demons, Faith fighting so recklessly and wildly that those around her worried— but wild, reckless and all, she fought with a hellish effectiveness. Demons fell under her fists and feet, then under the serrated blade she took from one of their corpses.

The last of them fell to Bree, ever unexpected, grabbing it by the horns as it tried to tackle her, leaping over it, still holding onto the horns, landing behind it and twisting as she hit, snapping its neck.

"Nice," Gunn said. "Damn, girl, you got some serious style."

"Thanks— I like to get a little—" Bree's voice stopped, and blood sprayed from her back in a huge, hopeless gout, tissue and bone going with it. She stood weaving as the sound of the shot that had hit her echoed around under the overpasses— then said softly, "Damn it"— and fell.

Gunn caught her, tried to see any hope of saving her— then set her down, let a medic start working on her even as another shot rang out, and a START soldier screamed as the bullet entered his chest via the small gap at the armpit of his vest.

"SNIPER!" Angel bellowed. "FIND COVER!"

_The problem with that,_ Gunn thought as he flattened on the ground, _is that there ain't any cover out here. We're sitting ducks!_

Two more shots, two more screams, and Angel— the vampire was doing what he could. He knew a bullet couldn't kill him, even if it could hurt like hell, so he was dancing around, making a target of himself. Gun heard three more shots, saw blood, darker and thicker than most, spray out from Angel— but Angel didn't fall, wouldn't fall. He just… kept on taking the bullets, kept moving enough to present a tempting target, and to make it hard to get a bead on anything like his head or legs.

Then it stopped, and a second later, Gunn heard the clatter of a rifle hitting pavement— the sniper had lost the gun. Good deal.

He leaped to his feet— and that's when he saw the rest of the problem.

More demons were pouring out of the supposedly dead space between the twin overpasses, up where there was only blank concrete and dirty gravel. There seemed to be several varieties— and about a hundred of the damned things.

"Oh, that ain't good," Gunn said. Then a dragon, a thirty-foot-long damned dragon, flew out of the dead space— and Gunn revised his estimate. "Matter of fact, that just plain sucks ass!"

The redheaded local Slayer— Tracy, that was her name— stepped into Bree's shoes.

"Team Six!" she yelled. "Form ranks! Slayers and hand-to-hand specialists in front, kneeling, START soldiers with ranged weapons behind! Fire as soon as you have a target!"

"Team Three!" Faith said. "Match Team Six! Heavy weapons, hit that damned dragon!"

The shooting started, and things got nuts.

_Interlude, Teams Four and Five:_

"You okay, Chantelle?" Vi asked, seeing the younger girl limping as she came out of the State Farm building in downtown Bloomington (those State Farm people has an insane number of buildings here in town, it was almost sad). "What happened?"

"One of those purple-ogre-looking bastards lobbed a desk at me," Chantelle said. "Nicked my hip going by— hurts a bit, I can deal. And hey, he's got one of them combat discs that Graham gave me permanently buried in the back of his mouth, so it's all good."

"Ouch," Vi said, and chuckled. "No losses here— that's good.

"Comm officer? Where next?"

"It's a toss up," Corporal Edmunds called back. "Either we try to get to downtown Normal and do some good— but there are friendlies there already, doing damage that— well, sounds unbelievable, but hey, it's that kind of day.

"Either there— or the main battle site. It's getting nuts down there, all sorts of shit is showing up out of nowhere."

Vi looked at Satsu, cocked an eyebrow— and Satsu nodded.

"Main battle site," Vi said. "Teams! Transports! We're headed for the big brawl!"

"Hot damn," Chantelle said. "Maybe I'll get a shot at that bitch Amy, if I'm lucky."

"The way you shoot?" Vi said, grinning. "And with that bow? Chantelle, I figure if you get a look at her, you've got a shot at her."

"Here's hoping," Chantelle said, and jumped into the transport.

They turned around and roared off towards the main site.

_Interlude, Eastland Mall Food Court:_

Dave Belzer was having the kind of day you never forgot— no matter how hard you tried.

_Mall security should be a cakewalk,_ he thought, _not a stroll through the uglier slums of hell!_

The food court had been walled off at the mall end with heaps and piles of tables and chairs, keeping the monsters down there at bay, at least for the moment. The problem was the parking lot— on the other side of the huge panoramic windows that made up the south exterior wall of the food court. Nothing had popped up out there yet, but if something did… Dave saw no way to stop it from getting in.

Almost a hundred people huddled in clumps around the food court, looking to him for protection— and if anything came at those windows, he wouldn't be able to give it.

Suddenly a rectangle of light appeared in the air over by the bathroom entrance, and Dave groaned. Then eight people stepped out of it, and the one in front— an absolutely gorgeous woman with black hair, golden eyes and delicately pointed ears— stepped forward, gestured with her hands for a long moment, said something in a liquid-crystal-sounding language he didn't understand— then spoke to him in English.

"Do you understand me, sir?" the woman asked.

"I… yes, ma'am," Dave said, taking in her long tunic, which clung lovingly to her slight form, and the trousers and boots she wore beneath it. "I understand you just fine."

"It is good," she said. "I am Jillona of Revelsan, a wizard of the sixth gateway. I and my friends are here to help. Will you permit us to help you?"

"Yes, of course!" Dave said. He watched a silver dragon about the size of a small Cocker Spaniel fly out of the still-there glowing door and land on Jillona's shoulder. "Wow… um, yes, ma'am— please, we need help. Things have gone… insane."

"Yes, I felt the madness across dimensions," Jillona said. "Perhaps because Gleam and I—" She reached up to touch the little dragon, stroke his neck lovingly. "—have been here once before.

"All right— please move everyone to the center of this courtyard. We will do the rest."

Dave turned to start moving people, and Jillona said, "Rill, Sarpeth, Kethras, examine the barricade. Dennel, get to a place where you can see over it. Jephellas, my husband, see if you can ward these glass walls— they are a weak point. Cylene, see to the wounded. Wenna, check the other routes into this courtyard— see the guardsman to help you, he will know the secret ways."

The group— three humans, a halfling, a dwarf, another half-elf and Jillona's elven husband— spread out to do as she said, and she turned her attention to Gleam.

"My friend, if your friends would come through, now is the time," Jillona said softly. "But they must be sure, Gleam— for I think that the walls between worlds will restore themselves after this battle, and they may not be able to return."

_*They are sure, Jillona,*_ Gleam said mentally. _*Well and truly sure. At the mating gathering, many saw in my mind of this place, of she who Glitter who has attached herself to, of how, had she not seen her Rose first, Glitter would have been hard pressed to choose one to be her companion.*_

"Yes, I understand," Jillona said. "I liked her— I admired her. She deserves a companion of your people, my friend— and if her family does as well… then may your friends never regret their decisions."

_*They will not,*_ Gleam sent. _*This world… it needs our kind. And my children will need mates.*_

"All worlds need your kind," Jillona said, chuckling. "Or so I believe."

_*Then you do well by furthering your beliefs,*_ Gleam said. _*I will fetch the flight._*

Gleam flew back through the dimension door, and less than a minute later, flew back again, even as Jillona opened the glass door to this courtyard, that the flight might go outdoors.

After Gleam came a multi-colored stream of pseudo dragons of every size, and more colors than any rainbow ever dreamed of having.

The stream went on, and on, out the door, up, and away to the north. Finally, the stream stopped as one last pseudo dragon, small and as black as onyx, flew out the door that Jillona held open, and, unlike his fellows, streaked off to the southwest.

"Jillona!" the halfling Dennel called. "The demons are massing. Now might be a good time for a bit of chain lightning. Or perhaps a fireball?"

"Coming, Dennel," Jillona called, and Gleam settled on her shoulder as she went towards the barricade, preparing a spell in her mind.


	80. Chapter 80

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 80

_Rose:_

That bitch Claudia had speed, on top of everything else. She was as fast as me— and I'm fast, even for a Slayer.

She hit me before I could block, a shot to the nose that made my eyes water— but I knew what came next, and blocked the elbow to the jaw by deflecting it up, and fired off a punch to the gut at her.

I hit a plate of some kind in her leather armor, and she barely noticed.

Then Elaine, moving like a slightly insane tornado, cracked a hefty kick across Claudia's jaw, sent the bitch staggering backwards— but Claudia turned "staggering" into "spinning," a deliberate, under-control spinning, and she sort of… well, she moved back at us hopping and jumping like a monkey.

I got worried. Monkey style kung fu is… well, it's almost as hard to counter as Capoeira, and that worried me silly.

Claudia sprang into the air and slammed both fists at my face. I blocked hard— and the bitch drove both feet back into Elaine's chest, knocking her back and away. Elaine tried to get control of her tumble, but she forgot the stairs, and she fell down them with a lot of cussing and some yelps of pain.

Claudia bounced up and came at me, feet firing low, short, fast kicks, hands up to jab if I let my guard slip. I step-blocked, raising my feet just enough to block her feet, and fired off a series of jabs of my own as I heard Elaine start up the stairs. I waited— and there it was, the opening I wanted, as Claudia over-committed to a block, thinking to counterstrike.

I snaked my arms inside hers, snapped my arms out wide— and fired the thrust kick from hell into Claudia's gut. She flew backwards, and I gave chase, saw her hit the far wall as I leaped into a jumping side kick.

She landed well— that damned armored suit of hers gave her an edge— and I saw a glow at her wrist as a little leather bracelet she wore lit up.

I had almost reached her when a goddamned dagger appeared in her hand out of nowhere, and she snaked aside, slammed the knife up under my blocking arm— and into my chest.

It felt like white-hot fire being driven into my lungs, and very suddenly I couldn't breathe right.

I heard Elaine's screamed "ROSE!"— and then things went dark.

That's when Daddy started talking to me.

_Interlude, Teams One and Two:_

"Oh, Rupert, you're going to owe me quite a lot," Ethan Rayne said as power and vitality slammed out of his chest, down his arm, and out through his bleeding hand into Rupert Giles. "Bloody idiot— you're supposed to stay off the front lines, let the Slayers and the soldiers do the work. The general does not go to the front. It's in all the military texts, and as much as you love books, I'd think you'd know that!"

"Ethan?" Giles voice, low and tired, but alive, not in pain or struggling for breath. "Old friend?"

"Ah, he wakes!" Ethan said, not moving his hand just yet. "What is it, Rupert?"

"Do shut up, Ethan," Giles said. "You're prattling."

"You don't get to tell me to shut up, you damned old fool," Ethan said in a rather prim voice. "Not when it's my bloody life flowing through your veins, you don't."

"Yes, I suppose you have a point," Giles said. "Ethan… I suppose if you were to call me 'Ripper' now and again, I wouldn't object. I think… I think you've earned the right."

"Well, and if that isn't proof that I've landed firmly on the side of the angels, what is?" Ethan said, and grimaced as he pulled his hand away from Giles's now unmarked chest.

"Quite," Giles said, sitting up. "Although, if I can trust my eyes, didn't you just shoot an awful lot of demons, and save most everyone here? That might have helped, as well."

"I suppose," Ethan said, letting Samantha Finn bandage his hand. "Ripper… how bad is it?"

"Bad," Giles said softly. "We've lost Vivian and… and Riley."

"Riley!" Ethan said, looking stunned. "But he can't— he was— oh, damn and blast.

"Samantha… I'm sorry."

"Later," Sam said. "Right now, there's a job to do."

"Yes, there is," Giles said. He stood, pulled Buffy too him, and hugged her, reassuring both of them of his health. "But first… Sara! Come here, please."

Sara came over to Giles— and he wrapped her in a hard, firm hug.

"You saved my life, Sara Lamont," Giles said. "Just as surely as Ethan did, you saved my life. You kept me alive until he got here. Thank you, Sara."

"Never a problem, Giles," Sara said, and dimpled. "So… time to go after Amy?"

"Where are Rose and Elaine?" Giles asked. "And Linnea?"

"Rose and Elaine split off," Sara said. "They thought they could sneak in better than fight in, especially if the rest of us went in all loud and obnoxious.

"Linnea… she's gone. Demon— and that bitch-Slayer of Amy's laughed about it."

"And that would be when Rose and Elaine took off," Buffy said. "Got it.

"Okay, people— gather yourselves, and let's figure out how to get out of here and up to Amy!"

"I can help," Fred, the girl from Angel's team said. "There's lots of stuff we can use to make a way up with."

Two minutes later, with two Slayers and Vincent doing the lifting, Fred had managed the construction of a solid-if-ugly almost-stairway that got them in reach of the second floor.

"Nice job," Lydia Heller said. "You're pretty swift."

"I try," Fred said, blushing.

"Okay, let's move," Buffy said— and went up the stairway, leading from the front as always.

_Interlude, Teams Three thru Six:_

"Come to papa, you ugly sucker," Ballard Innes said, whirling into the ginga and launching himself at a tall, powerful humanoid demon that had thick, leathery hide and a row of four short horns down the middle of its bald skull. The thing had mass on him, and muscle— but no speed to speak of, and even less agility. Ballard kicked it three times, spinning rapidly and throwing his head and torso towards the ground each time for more velocity— and it staggered backwards, looking dazed. He charged after it, slammed both of the butterfly swords he carried into its gut, and jerked his hands out, spilling the thing's guts on the ground.

He took a moment to glance around before moving in to the next rank. Teams Three and Six had sure been glad to see Team Four and his own Team Five when they got here— and he could see why. Bodies, everywhere there were bodies. And the corpse of a big honking dragon— not as big as the one that he'd faced with everyone at Rose's high school, but big— lay off to one side, where it had finally fallen after the two backup teams had arrived and sent the last of their heavy weapons into the damned thing.

Nasty.

He moved in again, charged at another of the same variety of demon, knowing he could take it down, not being sure about other varieties.

Then he heard a sound he very much did not want to hear; the snapping-sail sound of giant, leathery wings.

He glanced over just as another damned dragon appeared out of the empty space between the bridges.

"Oh, damnit to hell," he said— and started kicking the demon to death, knowing he could do nothing about the dragon.

Angel looked at the dragon, then looked at Morton, the START officer in command.

"We're tapped," she said. "Just plain out of heavy weapons. We never planned for this sort of incursion."

"Get one of your demolitions people over here," Angel said. "Now!"

Morton called over one of the demolitions specialists, and Angel said to the man, "What have you got that will blow up really big?"

"I've got a couple of cans of plastique foam, and that's about it," the corporal said.

"Rig them with a detonator," Angel said. "Hurry!"

The man glanced at his commander, and Angie Morton nodded.

Fifteen seconds later, the man handed Angel two cans of plastique foam that had been duct-taped together, a detonator mounted on one.

"Red switch activates the timer," the corporal said. "Ten seconds. Blue switch activates the radio detonator." He held up a detonator, offered it to Angel.

"No, you keep it," Angel said. "I'm going to activate both switches and then get that thing to swallow the bomb— if it doesn't go off ten seconds later, you use that."

"Got it," the corporal said.

"How are you going to get the dragon to swallow that?" Lieutenant Morton asked.

"The hard way," Angel said. "Lieutenant… tell Faith I said she isn't allowed to give up. Tell her… tell her if she quits, if she gives up, I'll haunt her!"

Before Morton could try to stop him, Angel stuffed the bomb in the pocket of his coat, grabbed as many weapons as he could carry from nearby corpses, and ran off towards the dragon.

Angel threw a sword at the dragon as it passed over him, threw it hard— and the dragon looped back his way.

"That's right, you son of a gecko," Angel bellowed. "Come to me— I need new luggage!"

He flung an axe, next, got a lucky shot, hit the roof of the dragon's mouth.

"Come on!" Angel yelled. "What are you waiting for? Want me to marinade myself or what!" He threw another sword, and another, smaller axe. "Come on, dammit!"

The dragon swooped at him, and Angel reached into his pocket, flipped both switches— and threw the last sword he carried into the thing's mouth.

It roared, swooped lower and he saw it's mouth coming at him, gaping wide— and he jumped in.

The dragon threw it's head back and swallowed Angel, not even chewing, and there was a long moment of horrid, black wetness.

He had just enough time to think, _Goodbye, Buffy, goodbye, Faith, goodbye, gang of mine._

_I love you guys._

Then the bomb went off, and the dragon fell to the ground a little way from the battle, it's sides rupturing and belching flame as it died.

"Oh, shit," Lt. Morton said. "That crazy son of a bitch!"

Then she turned to the fight and waded in, determined to see the vampire's sacrifice pay off.

_Elaine:_

I saw that bitch Claudia drive her magically-appearing knife into my Rose's chest, and I screamed, terrified that Rose would die— but I didn't give Claudia a chance to finish her off, Slayers heal fast, and Rose might live if I could end this _soon_.

I moved into the ginga fast, and when Claudia came at me, bobbing and weaving like a monkey on crack, I let her. When she got close, I did a back handspring out of her way, bent my arms and tucked my knees up— then thrust up and out with both arms and legs. I caught that evil bitch in the face, sent her backwards and to the floor, saw the knife skitter out of her hand and away from her. I cartwheeled in, dropped both feet on Claudia's gut, one after the other, sprang off before she could react, and did a couple of back whips to get room to maneuver.

She didn't give me the chance, she was charging me, a hideous snarl issuing from her throat, when I finished the second whip. I spun into the ginga, threw myself into a deceptive spinning kick where you twist your body and kick with your trailing foot —

And she caught my foot, held me in the air as I tried to get my bearings. I cocked my other foot to kick her— and she swung me clear over her head and down into the ground like I weighed nothing at all. My head swam, I couldn't breathe for the wind being knocked out of me, and I couldn't resist when she reversed it, swung me back the other way and into the ground again. I felt ribs break, and my left shoulder— and I knew that I'd failed, that I couldn't stop her from killing me. She'd dislocated the hip of the leg she swung me by, even.

She stood over me, glaring, and twitched her right hand in a funny way. The little leather bracelet she wore glowed, and suddenly she had a fistful of knife.

"I'm going to slit your throat, you stupid bitch," Claudia said, her voice dripping with hate and madness. "Then I'm going to get your little girlfriend, drag her over here, and if she's still breathing, I'm going to drown her in your blood.

"You really should not have messed with me, you stupid slut!"

She pulled me up by the collar of my shirt, pulled her knife-arm back and started the swing that would end with my throat cut—

THWACK!

I opened my eyes— they'd closed involuntarily— and saw the most welcome and impossible sight ever.

Rose stood off to my left, Claudia's right, her right hand out and gripping Claudia's right wrist. Rose had a big grin on her face, and as Claudia and I both stared at the hole in her sweater where the knife had been, saw the unmarked skin beneath it, Rose spoke.

"Dearie," Rose said, smiling and sounding almost _wildly_ cheerful, "that's _my_ line!"

Rose twisted and kicked, and jerked Claudia into the kick by the wrist she still had hold of. I heard Claudia's ribs break, even as my own grated as I fell— and blackness swallowed me.

_Honey,_ my mom's voice said as the darkness came, _we need to have a little talk…._

_Rose:_

"Ah, Rose," Daddy said. I felt his hands on me, and I knew I'd screwed up, I'd died— and left Elaine to face Claudia Steele alone. He lifted me to a sitting position, and I realized that we were in the cemetery where he'd been buried, on the bench nearest his grave. "My girl, you've made me as proud as any father has ever been."

"But— but I let that— that _filth_ beat me!" I cried. "And Elaine— god, Daddy, I don't think Elaine can take her alone!"

"Then it's a good thing she won't have to," Daddy said. "Relax and listen, Rose— time here counts for very little out there in the real world."

"I— yes, Daddy." I took his hands in mine, reveling in that contact, and he smiled as he continued.

"Rose, my darling girl, you've done all that was asked of you," Daddy said. "And you did the one most important thing, my dear— and in doing, you and Elaine, you've saved each other already from yon wicked girl."

I remembered the warning from the seers, and I said, "The spell-things? From the rods those demon wizards had? That saved us?"

"Indeed it did," Daddy said, grinning at me. "Had only one of the beams hit you, or both only hit one of you, it would not have worked— but Elaine, she saw it, and you didn't fight her when she held you still."

"What was it, Daddy?" I asked, edging closer— and feeling warm and delighted as my Daddy pulled me into his lap, as he had so many times when I'd been a little girl. "What did they do for us?"

"Well, your friend Xander might have recognized the rods those two wielded," Daddy said. "They're a relic of a now-extinct demon race called the Toth, and the last Toth, before Buffy and Riley ended him, he used the rod— a Ferula-Gemina it's called, meaning 'doubling rod'— aiming to hit Buffy, and got Xander instead. Xander ended up split into two people, Rose— one strong, one weak, but both Xander. Unfortunately, each thought the other a demon, and they might have killed each other, if not for Giles and Buffy— for if either half dies, the other dies, too. Willow reversed it, of course— but that's what was done to you and Elaine… twice."

"I get it!" I said. "I get it now— the one wizard, he suggested 'the Duel of the Entwined Fates,' and the other one agreed, said he'd like seeing the first one 'die twice!' So they'd split each other, and then each have to protect his weaker self from the strong self of the other. Damn, that'd be elegant and cool if it wasn't sick and twisted!"

"That's it exactly, my Emerald Rose," Daddy said. "Only… both spells hit both you and Elaine, my one, and that… made things happen a bit odd. Each of you was split multiple times, more than the four you'd expect, even, as the energies of the two Ferula-Gemina interacted with the magic of the Scythe that's in the two of you— and then they cancelled each other out, and you were each restored to one whole being— with a bit of a twist."

"What sort of a twist, Daddy?" I asked.

"Well… my darling girl, a bit of each of you went into the other." Daddy grinned as I gaped. "Aye, my dear one, 'tis true. You've a bit of Elaine inside you now— and she a bit of you inside her.

"You two are more closely linked than any lovers in history, Rose— and that, my darling girl, means that you can beat this girl Claudia, that you aren't going to die— and that Elaine isn't either. Not today, not if you're the fighters I know that you can be."

"Oh… my… god!" I said. "I'm— we're— Elaine and I are—"

"You are two Slayers," Daddy said softly, "yet you share one heart, my Rose— and you're both going to be damned hard to kill.

"Now, don't go thinkin' you're immortal— no such thing. But most any blow that doesn't kill you instantly you'll recover from, while the other lives. And you'll recover _fast,_ Rose. Damned fast. So fast that… well, love, I think you've got to go, now. You've work yet to do— and a love to save."

I stood, pulled Daddy to his feet, hugged him hard.

"Thank you for watching out for all of us, Daddy," I said against his chest. "I love you."

"You're more than merely welcome, my Emerald Rose," Daddy said. "And I love you as well, my girl.

"Now go— and pay the Powers back by doing as you were intended to do."

I stepped back, waved— and woke up.

I felt fine— but that cow Claudia was about to cut Elaine's throat. Not happening!

"You really should not have messed with me, you stupid slut!" Claudia snarled in Elaine's battered, bloody face, drawing her knife back to slash Elaine's throat.

I leaped over, caught Claudia's wrist before she could finish the swing and said, "Dearie— that's _my_ line!"

Then I kicked her into next week, and chased after her to give Elaine time to recover.

_Interlude, Teams One and Two:_

Buffy killed yet another Krellop demon— big things, seven feet tall, four-armed, quick, and with natural claws as well as long, ugly swords— and heard a clang from behind-slash-beside her. She spun, saw Giles standing there holding the sword of a Krellop some six inches from her head with his own blade.

Then Delia killed the Krellop with her beloved broadsword (odd to see such a tiny little thing with such a heavy sword— Buffy wondered how many monsters had thought that about her right before they died), lopping its head off with a vicious swipe.

"Do be more careful, Buffy," Giles admonished gently. "Had I not been here… well, it might have been ugly."

"Yeah, no joke," Buffy said. "Thanks, Giles, thanks, Delia."

"No sweat," Delia said. Then she mopped her brow, and said, "Well, no problem.

"Giles, where are they all coming from?"

"I'm afraid that Amy's spell has weakened dimensional barriers rather heavily." Giles sighed and polished his glasses. "Thus… things are being pulled in by the First Evil to prevent us from reaching Amy in time. That much it can do with the power of Amy's sacrifice, even though the sacrifice isn't complete yet."

From the floor above them— they were on the third floor, now— came a monstrous thump, and a girl screamed, "YOU CAN'T BE HERE! YOU CAN'T BE FIGHTING ME! I _KILLED_ YOU!"

"Nah," came Rose's voice, sounding cheerful to the point of manic. "Only almost killed me. I got better, see?"

"Nice to know Rose is keeping up the tradition of almost dying and being a smartass about it," Buffy said, and shook her head in admiration.

The building shook, hard— and Willow suddenly appeared, grabbed Buffy's arm and said, "Buffy, there's no more time! We're going to have to bull through, and never mind the magic cost! Pick two to come with us, and we go up the fast way. Hurry!"

"Vincent!" Buffy shouted. "Sh'rin!"

Both appeared, and Buffy saw that Sh'rin was still wiping her eyes, had been crying.

"Who?" Buffy asked, knowing it wasn't Dawn— she was off to one side, walking along below the sounds of the fight on the third floor, smiling a little.

"Samantha," Sh'rin said, gasping and trying to control herself. "She— she died saving Felicia."

"Oh, damn," Buffy said weakly. "God, let her and Riley be happy somewhere, okay? Please?"

Buffy shook herself, looked at the two she'd picked, said, "We're going after Amy— you two, me and Willow. Vincent, she may have more physical guards than I can handle— and you're in the mood to kill things, and you can't be disarmed, so it's you. Sh'rin, you're support for Wil and protection for me and Vincent.

"Giles… put Sara in charge, and work your way up. And deal with this!"

With that, Buffy threw her arms around Giles's neck, hugged him hard and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Giles."

"And I love you," Giles said. "Now— kiss Xander and go!"

Buffy turned, grabbed Xander and kissed him, then nodded at Willow.

"Go!" she said, and as Willow lifted the four of them into the air, Buffy called, "I love you, Xander Harris!"

"I love you, too, Buffy," he replied— and the four of them disappeared up the stairs, moving quickly in Willow's telekinetic field.

"Sara!" Giles called. "Front and center, young lady! You're about to lead us upstairs!"

Sara appeared, nodded at Giles, then turned to the others and said, "Okay, listen up! Sets of three, one Slayer to a set, one soldier, and a Watcher, Guardian or other specialist for the third. Get organized, pretty much now!

"Whitey! You and Graham are with me!"

Giles smiled, and moved do find a group that needed a Watcher, while tiny little Sara took charge.


	81. Chapter 81

Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 81 _Elaine:_

"… so now you and Rose are two Slayers, Elaine— who share one heart," Mom said, finishing her explanation of how Rose had gotten up, and why I wasn't dying, just healing.

"_That's_ why all of the sudden, Glitter will drape herself around my neck like she does Rose's!" I said. "Holy— wow!"

"Yes, that's it," Mom said, standing up from the bench along the wall of the very first dance studio where I'd ever taken lessons, a place where she'd spent hours watching me and encouraging me. "Now, my ballerina-girl, give your mother a hug— then go and help Rose stomp the shit out of this psychotic little bitch who's tried to kill you both."

I hugged Mom hard, snuggled close for a long time, then let go when she did.

"One more thing," Mom said. "No guilt, honey. Regret is allowed— but no guilt.

"Claudia Steele knows what she's doing— and she likes it. You can feel regret over killing her, and you should… but never guilt."

"Yes, Mom," I said. "Love you."

"Love you, too." Mom shot me a thumbs up, just like she had when I got a complex dance move right —

— and I woke up, feeling fine.

I got up Capoeira style (which looks a lot like break-dancing style), throwing my legs up and out in a spinning-scissoring movement, spinning up to my shoulders, then my hands, then dropping to my feet, already doing the ginga as I loped towards the area near the wall where Claudia and Rose were fighting like a couple of humanoid dragons on crystal meth.

Even as I got close, Claudia kicked Rose hard, sent her flying backwards to roll across the floor (cursing in Chinese as she rolled— that's my Rose!), and I threw myself into the Capoeira version of a jump-spinning kick, which is super-fast, and omits the word "back" from the traditional martial arts "jump-spinning-back kick" because you spin chest-on to your opponent, not back-on. Claudia saw it coming and tried to block.

Bad idea. I'm a Slayer, and when a Slayer does a power kick like that, not even another Slayer can block it safely. I broke her arm, and drove her own fist into her face to boot (that hurt two ways, as it aggravated the break in her arm, too).

"BITCH!" Claudia screamed— and went flying past me as Rose hit her with a jumping side kick. She hit the ground, but bounced up quickly. "Loser BITCHES! Cheaters!"

"Cheaters!?" Rose said, looking at me in disbelief. "Elaine, have we time-slipped back to the sixth grade, and I never noticed!?"

"Come on!" Claudia said, bouncing on her feet. "Come on, fight fair!"

"Okay, I'll tell you what," Rose said. "You don't get to talk about fighting fair while you're wearing armor and we're not!"

"There's two of you!" Claudia whined. "I had to even it up!"

"But you're so much better than us!" I said. "So the armor is cheating."

"Oh, SCREW YOU!" she screamed— and leaped at me.

I ginga-ed sideways, and her kick passed through empty air. She came down and leaped into a jump-spinning-back kick at Rose, who moved into the kick and fired off this wicked double-punch, one fist going into Claudia's gut, the other into her crotch. She fell down and started rolling around on the ground.

That's when Willow, Buffy, Vincent— covered in blood and looking a mixture of hurt and furious that left me feeling sick with fear for Vivian— and Sh'rin all drifted up the stairs, across the room, and to the stairs up to the fifth floor.

"Kill that bitch hard!" Willow said on seeing Claudia. "She killed Kennedy!"

"And she arranged the trap that killed Linnea," Rose said. "She's dead already, Wil— she just won't admit it."

"You two finish her, then come up and help us," Buffy called as they passed up the stairs.

"AMY!" Claudia screamed. "HELP ME!"

Even as Rose and I closed, we saw evidence that Amy was listening. Claudia's armored suit glowed— and her arm healed, the bruises on her face fade away. She straightened up, looked as fresh as a daisy.

"Oh, that's nice!" Claudia said. "Thanks, Amy!"

"Rose," I said, low and urgent, "Tony Stark!"

She got it, nodded— and turned to run across the room. Claudia started to go after her, but I didn't allow that. I started attacking her, fast and furious, flipping, cartwheeling, kicking from every conceivable direction, and some that might not have been all that conceivable, if not for my Slayer enhancements.

Claudia was good, I'll give her that. She found my rhythm, and she caught me at a bad moment, slammed a forearm across my gut while I was standing on my hands, sent me flying.

I rolled, gulped breath— and break-danced my way back to my feet, even as Rose came at Claudia again, this time with her sword.

"Hey!" Claudia cried. "No weapons, bitch!"

"Oh, you can use a knife and magic armor, and I can't use a sword?" Rose said, her blade spinning like a free-mounted propeller. "Afraid not, sugar.

"This isn't about fair, you stupid psycho _freak_— it's about the world."

"Oh, please!" Claudia said, sneering— and doing that little twitch of the hand that summoned her knife. "This isn't about the world— it's about you wanting payback for your witch's bitch, and for the stupid little brat that L'prak killed downstairs!"

"It's about them, too," I said, watching but staying clear for a moment as Rose and Claudia circled each other carefully. "But Rose is right— it's about the world.

"This power? It's supposed to be about protecting the world from the bad things, the evil, the monstrous. And you've taken the power and corrupted it, made _yourself_ into a bad thing, evil and monstrous.

"You've decided to help a psychotic witch who's willing to destroy the world for jealousy's sake, Claudia… so killing you, it's about saving the world."

She stopped and stared at me like I was the crazy one— and Rose _blurred_.

I've known that Rose was practically a goddess with a blade since the first time I saw her use it, back in May of that year in her back yard— but I had no idea of exactly how precise her control was until that moment, and I admit— I stared at her in open disbelief.

The places on Claudia's leather armor that had been reinforced with metal plates were visible by their seams, of course, making the leather armor looked vaguely insectoid, like the plates on a big bug. The seams between armor plate-pouches were fairly narrow, not more than a quarter of an inch or so.

Rose never hit a single plate, or did more than lightly scratch Claudia's skin as she cut the armor in so many places and so many ways that it fell off of the evil bitch like dead leaves fall off of a tree in a high wind.

"What the HELL!?" Claudia cried as she found herself standing there in a pair of spandex biker's shorts and a tight t-shirt, both badly tattered thanks to Rose and her sword.

Rose grinned at her, a hard, angry sort of grin, and said, "It's called swordsmanship. And it's called leveling the playing field. Elaine figured out that the armor was how you healed— hence her Tony Stark comment, as his power comes from his Iron Man armor— so I leveled the playing field.

"Or, since Elaine and I both heal the way you wish you did… I might even let you call it cheating— if I cared what you thought!"

Rose's sword flashed out a final time, cut that little leather bracelet that allowed Claudia to summon her knife, and scratched her hand deeply enough to make her drop the weapon, which I promptly kicked away.

"So…." Rose gave Claudia a hard look, then set her sword down and kicked it away. "You've had your dance, Claudia Steele.

"Now it's time to pay the fiddler!"

Claudia screamed wordlessly and leaped at Rose, feet cocked under her, hands close to her chest— and Rose dived forward, rolled past Claudia, away from her. Claudia landed, turned— and I was on her, spinning up onto my hands, driving first one foot, then the other into her chin, staggering her back— and then Rose was there, fists hammering with a speed that only a Slayer at the top of her game could produce, feet moving to block Claudia's low kicks. Claudia tried a stomp kick, meaning to pin Rose's foot down for a second, and Rose shifted her foot aside, pulled her arms into her chest, and fired twin palm strikes into Claudia's sternum and navel, sending the bitch staggering back into my cartwheeling double-kick, which I followed with a corkscrew kick that sent Claudia staggering back towards Rose— and I saw Rose's feet shift, her torso twist, and knew what she was doing.

I matched her as best I could, ginga-ed in time with her wind up, threw myself into a spin, leaped into the air, spinning towards Claudia Steele, my leading foot tucked in, trailing foot coming around with all the speed of that spin —

Rose spun and leaped, twisting her torso, letting it pull her hips around, her right heel heading for the juncture of Claudia Steele's neck and shoulder, even as my right foot headed for the side of that psycho-bitch's head —

We hit perfectly, Rose's kick pushing Claudia's neck one way, and my own kick pushing the twisted Slayer's head the other way at the same time, both of us kicking as hard as we ever had in our lives —

Claudia Steele's neck broke so violently that she didn't even have time to scream, and within seconds, the last few beats of her heart had made her throat swell up like a toad's.

Rose dropped to the floor, sat puffing and staring at Claudia's body for a second.

"No guilt," I said, dropping beside her and putting an arm around her waist. "Mom was right, Rose, when she told me not to feel guilty. Regretful… it's sad that she was so broken, yeah.

"But no guilt. Okay?"

"No guilt," Rose said, and kissed me lightly. "But… yeah. Sad.

"So… let's go watch Willow make pimento loaf out of Amy, what do you say? And maybe lend the others a hand?"

I stood, pulled my Rose to her feet, and said, "You know, I really like this whole 'one heart' deal we've got going on, Rose. Makes everything seem even more perfect than it did before."

"Yeah," she agreed, squeezing my hand. "Our perfect has exceeded ordinary perfect, and attained perfection of perfect."

"Love you," I said, as we looked around at the empty fifth floor and headed for the stairs to the sixth.

"Love you, too," she said— and we went upstairs to watch the end of a war, and maybe to help.

_Interlude, Teams One and Two:_

"Okay," Sara said, panting. "I'm getting tired of this. We start for the stairs, and more demons appear. It's getting old. So… hey, um, Fred? It is Fred, right?"

"Yeah, hi," Fred said, coming over to stand in front of Sara, Whitey, Graham, Giles and Ethan. "Short for Winifred. What can I do to help?"

"We've got demolitions guys that can blow holes in the floor," Sara said. "Or the ceiling. Think you can make a ladder out of something here?"

"Oh, sure, that's easy," Fred said. "Give me two minutes and a couple of Slayers."

"Simone, Felicia," Sara called, "Lend Fred, here, a hand— we're not playing with the enchanted stairs any more.

"Graham, get your guys to punch us a hole in the ceiling, would you?"

"On it," Graham said, calling for his people while Fred took Simone and Felicia over to the big, heavy windows that looked out on the Center Street overpass.

Two minutes later, Fred had ordered construction of a heavy, sturdy ladder from the window frames, which were metal, not the standard wood, having taken two sets of windows out of the main frame, then knocked out the glass, leaving a metal ladder of sorts. Wire two pieces together, and boom— ladder.

"You're good," Sara told Fred. "I'd love to see what you could come up with given a big metal shop— and maybe a lab."

"So would I," Fred said, grinning.

"Okay," Sara called. "Demolitions, make us a hole."

Four minutes later, they came up on the fifth floor, just in time to see Rose and Elaine disappear up the steps— and a wavering, ugly light appear against the far wall.

"Oh, crap," Sara sighed as the first heavily armored vampire stepped out of the light. "Here we go again!"

She drew her sword and waded in.

_Interlude, Teams Three thru Six:_

Ballard had found himself fighting in a pair with Faith, and got a pleasant surprise— her wild, exuberant fighting style combined well with the frenetic motion and unpredictable nature of his Capoeira.

But he felt worried about her. She hadn't spoken since Angel blew up the dragon in a spectacular act of self-sacrifice, hadn't made a sound, not even the inarticulate screams she'd made after Robin Wood had been killed.

More demons came out of the concrete cul-de-sac that seemed to be the source of all their problems— and Ballard got an idea, one so simple that he couldn't believe that no one had though of it before now.

"Faith!" Ballard yelled, gutting the green-and-orange lizard-demon he'd been fighting. "Finish that one you're on, then c'mere! I've got an idea!"

He stepped back a few paces, waited until Faith had killed her own lizard-demon and come to stand mutely before him.

"Look, the demons keep coming out of that dead space between the bridges, there," Ballard said quickly. "So— let's get the demolitions people to blow it up, close it off!"

Faith looked at Ballard, looked at the cul-de-sac, and nodded.

"Hey!" she said to the nearest START soldier, her voice cracked and awful from all the screaming she'd done. "Get any of your demolitions people who have stuff left over here, send them to Ballard— he'll give them their orders."

With that, she turned and waded back into the fight, cutting down demons like a robot.

"Shit," Ballard said. "Well, at least she said _something_."

Two minutes later, pieces of both overpasses fell into the cul-de-sac, and further explosions collapsed the rubble even further, as the concrete walls that made up the dead-end area came down as well— and the flood of demons stopped cold.

All that was left then was the clean up.

_Interlude, the sixth floor:_

Willow came up first, and saw the monstrous circle that spread across a forty foot area of the empty floor, saw the stone table in the middle of it, the bloody, dead child on the table— and she got so angry that it took everything she had not to go into the Dark. Yes, that would give her the raw power to strip away Amy's spell circle— but it might be the end of everything, as well. She couldn't trust herself, not with that sort of power.

_No one_ could be trusted with that much power.

Then she saw the four monsters that patrolled around the edge of the circle, things that looked like giant lions with porcupine quills all over them, and she sighed. "Guys, can you handle these?"

"On it," Buffy said. "You worry about Amy.

"Vincent, go left, Sh'rin, you and I go right. Kill these things, let's give Wil a clear field."

"Orders received," Vincent said. "Objective understood." He started left around the circle, prowling like the big cat whose DNA he carried.

Willow concentrated on the circle, looking for a weakness, a way to break it— but there wasn't a lot of time left.

"Hey, Amy," Willow called. "Wanna stop this and just duke it out like a couple of high school girls?"

Amy didn't even break her chanting, or her slow pacing around the sacrificial table— but she did shoot Willow the finger.

"Guess not," Willow said, and started floating around the circle in the opposite direction that Amy walked, chanting a spell that she dimly hoped might disrupt Amy's sacrifice.

Willow heard snarling, saw Vincent fighting a porcupine-lion-demon out of the corner of her eye, but didn't let that distract her. She'd have to channel a hell of a lot of power to have even a little hope of disrupting what Amy had started.

Dimly, distantly, Willow saw Rose and Elaine come up the stairs from the corner of her eye, saw them take in the situation, and immediately split up, Rose going to help Vincent, Elaine going to the as-yet untroubled demon.

Then Willow heard the sound of Sh'rin drawing the Guardian's Blade, the sound that had become Sh'rin's very name— and she heard Sh'rin gasp, a hopeful sound.

"Buffy, kill that thing now!" Sh'rin called. "I have it, I see it! The answer!"

Willow felt a surge of hope— and it got bigger as Vincent and Rose, having killed the demon they were fighting, went to help Buffy.

Amy must have gotten worried— she increased the pace of her chanting and walking, headed for the two linked power circles at the head of the sacrificial table. The whole circle lit up with a sickly red light as Amy stopped in the small circle closest to the table, raised her left hand, which held a bloody lump of meat— the heart of the girl she'd murdered for a sacrifice— and shouted a thirteen-syllable phrase in Sumerian that meant "all that is evil."

Sh'rin grabbed Buffy as the Prime Slayer came up beside her, even as Amy started what sounded like the crescendo of her spell, and pointed down at a figure-eight on its side in the outermost line of Amy's circle.

"That is the key!" Sh'rin said. "The wizard's knot that closes this spell-circle! The Blade has shown me, it's the weak spot in Amy's circle! Destroy it, use the Scythe!"

"Glad to!" Buffy said, and swung the scythe back over her shoulder.

Amy finished the word, and something awful, huge, hideous, demonic in every sense of the word, started to form in the circle opposite her.

The Scythe came down, split the little figure-eight in half— and the red light of Amy's circle exploded out of the place where Buffy had cut it, slammed into Buffy with physical force, blew her backwards out the windows, sent her flying across the overpasses of Center and Main Streets, causing all of her friends to cry out.

From the circle came the most hideous scream ever heard, a horrid, hideous, soul-scraping scream of fury and defeat— as the First Evil faded away, back to its banishment, cheated by only a second or two out of being set free once again.

Amy Madison screamed "GOD DAMMIT! WILLOW, YOU BITCH!" and flung the heart of the dead girl on the ground like a five year old might fling down Play-Doh that had failed to take the shape she wanted.

"I'm a bitch?" Willow said, her voice soft, silky and dangerous. "You've murdered how many people, Amy?"

"Who cares?" Amy said, turning to face Willow, gathering her power and shaping it. "They didn't matter, they were only human. We're not human, Willow, not anymore— we're better than them, don't you get it?"

"No, we're really not," Willow said, her body starting to glow. "The people you killed, they mattered, Amy— every one of them.

"Kennedy mattered. Linnea mattered. Riley mattered. Sam mattered. Vivian mattered.

"They mattered to me. To my friends. To the people who loved them.

"And you, you and your little Slayer-bitch, you killed them.

"Rose and Elaine, they killed your little pet, Amy.

"And I'm going to kill you!"

Amy's spell exploded out Willow at the exact moment that Wil's defenses solidified, and Rose, Elaine, Vincent and Sh'rin forgot even to worry about Buffy as the two most powerful witches in the world began their battle.

_Interlude, Teams Three thru Six:_

Buffy flew backwards out of the window, blown out like a bullet from a gun by the force of Amy's built-up spell being released along the narrow line she'd cut through the circle with the Scythe. She twisted, writhed, got herself facing forward, her arms and legs out to slow her down, hoped she'd survive her fall as she started arcing for the ground— and then saw her chance, angled herself sharply downwards, tried to hit the big corpse of a dragon, which looked to have been blown up from inside. It had hit with one wingtip on the ground, the wing itself bent up, the hide of the wing stretched tight in front of her, coming at her fast —

Buffy tucked herself into a ball, spun to put her back to the wing, and splayed herself out into a human X again just a fraction of a second before she hit the wing. She tore through, slowed greatly, and slammed into the side of the dead dragon hard enough to knock the wind out of her— but unhurt, other than that.

She slid to the ground, lay there for a second, managed to get her breath back, and stood, leaning on the Scythe and pushing herself up.

"Well," she said, grimacing at the disgusting fluids that coated her back, "any landing that you walk away from…!"

A head appeared in the hole in the dragon's wing, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce gaped at Buffy for a long second.

"Buffy?" he said. "Are you— are you all right?"

"I'm good, Wes," Buffy said. "What's left to fight?"

Wes blinked— then laughed and said, "Well, we've about two dozen demons left, and the START people are out of ammunition— if you hurry, you might get a piece of the action, I suppose."

"Point me at them," Buffy said— and went to aid in the mopping up, not even worrying about Willow. Wil could take a useless bitch like Amy in her sleep.

_Interlude, the sixth floor:_

Fire roared. Lightning flashed. Ice formed and melted and ran away as water, gushing down the stairs. Light flashed, huge and blinding. Darkness formed, grew tentacles, lashed out, faded away to nothingness. The wooden floor grew spikes, stabbed out, broke. Metal beams twisted, formed great spears, flew at speeds approaching that of sound itself, and broke uselessly.

And Willow Rosenberg… _yawned_.

"SCREW YOU!" Amy Madison screamed. _"FUCK_ YOU! DIE, YOU STUPID BITCH!"

"Let me know when you're through, okay?" Willow said. "I'm gonna just, you know, let you take your shot.

"_Then_ I'll take mine."

Amy screamed again, channeled all of her remaining power into a bolt of purest hate, a bolt whose heat set Amy's dress to smoking, charred the floor under her, caused the metal beam above her to glow a dull red— and she flung it at Willow with all her might, all her willpower.

It hit Willow— and seemed to vanish inside her.

Willow belched a little, covered her mouth, and said, "Oops— excuse me."

Amy stared. Then she screamed wordlessly, and flung her self at Willow physically.

"_Desino,"_ Willow said, and waved a hand idly.

Amy stopped in mid air, golden bands of light appearing around her wrists, forcing them together, crossing them, then holding her aloft by her wrists for Willow to examine.

"Loser bitch!" Amy snarled. "Useless slut! Ignorant dyke! All your power, and you do nothing! You don't rule, you don't take, you just drift along, a happy, stupid, useless waste of flesh!"

Willow smiled a little sadly, and looked at Vincent, sent him a thought. He nodded, went off to a corner of the room, picked something up, brought it back, and set it on the floor a couple of feet behind the still-ranting Amy.

"I hate you!" Amy said. "Perfect little Willow, always using her power for good, always— except when she tried to destroy the world, but hey— forgive her for that, right!? No big deal, we'll forgive her!"

"My friends forgave me, yeah," Willow said. "They pretty much forgave me— but I never have forgiven _myself,_ Amy. That's the part you don't get.

"I don't forgive myself for that, because if I ever do, I may forget what I am, what I can do— and forget to keep myself in check. Forget to care, to worry that I'm doing too much, making things too easy… forget that everything I do has consequences. Good ones, bad ones— but consequences.

"You forgot that, Amy— and look where it got you."

"Oh, shut up and just kill me already!" Amy said. "I'd rather die than listen to you for ten more seconds."

"You'll die, Amy," Willow said softly. "But not like this. No, not as a human.

"You'll die as you should, Amy Madison, in the form that you most deserve to wear."

Amy's eyes widened, and she screamed, "NO! NO, DON'T, I'LL DO _ANYTHING,_ BUT _DON'T!"_

"Too late," Willow said, sounding honestly sad. "Too late, Amy. Too late by far."

Willow waved a hand, said softly, _"Fieri Rattus norvegicus"_— and Amy Madison shrank, twisted, her body vanishing inside her clothes as they dropped to the ground.

A moment later, a rat with fur the color of Amy's hair squirmed out of the pile of clothing— and Willow took a long step towards it. The rat turned in panic, ran from Willow —

— and the rat trap that Vincent had taken from a corner of the room went off as Amy-rat ran across it, unseeing in her panic.

She squeaked once as the heavy metal bar snapped her spine, crushed her internal organs— and Amy Madison died.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Willow heaved a deep, unsteady sigh.

"Let's get out of here," she said. "Most of what's out there will vanish on its own— but only most of it.

"There's still work to be done."

Rose and Elaine each took one of Willow's hands, Elaine took Vincent's, and he took Sh'rin's, and they filed down the stairs to the fifth floor to start the clean up.

_Rose:_

Wow. Poetic fucking justice in action. Go, Willow!

Floor five cleaned up before we got down there, and I got a Dad-hug right away.

"I take it, then," Dad said as he let me go, "that we have once again saved the world?"

"Oh, yeah," Willow said with a tired smile. "But this time— a little closer than usual, even. I could see the First Evil forming in the summoning circle when Buffy broke the wizard's knot with the Scythe."

"She broke— !?" Sunrise gasped. "Is she okay!? Where is she?"

"She's fine," Willow said. "She just helped them finish the mop up across the street— sorta got knocked over there by the backlash. But she's fine.

"Come on— I'm feeling pretty fresh, still, I'll get us over there the easy way."

"No," Sara said. "We had to leave our people where they fell, Willow— we should walk out, and pick them up."

"Oh," Wil said in a small voice. "I'm sorry— I forgot, with… with the win and all. I forgot— forgot how much it cost us."

We walked out, gathering up the bodies of Samantha and Riley Finn, Vivian Chaucer and Linnea Nolan, carried them with us across the street, and laid them next to the bodies of Robin Wood, Helena Parris, Elise Morgan, and Rona Thompson. And Angel— not even a body for him.

Brianne Dayton was alive, and the START medic with her said that if she'd survived this long, she'd make it, but he wanted to get her to a hospital— pretty much _now._

I was still crying, rocking with Elaine and crying, when Gunn said, "What the hell —? Hey, does anybody else see a tiny black dragon over there trying to claw through the corpse of the big one?"

I looked back, wiped my eyes so I could see, and saw a little black pseudo dragon clawing frantically at the side of the big, dead dragon that, according to Tracy, Angel had killed by letting it eat him while he carried a bomb.

I got up, grabbed a sword that lay nearby and went to help. Hey, it was a pseudo dragon, they're smart, and even if I'd never seen this one, I had to assume him to be a friend— I couldn't help it.

I slashed at the spot, once the little guy backed off, and after a couple of cuts, I went through the hide— and immediately, a human fist punched out.

"Holy SHIT!" I yelled. "HEY! HE'S OKAY! Get some axes over here, NOW!"

Buffy didn't screw around— she brought the Scythe over, and shouted, "Angel, back up as much as you can— I'm gonna cut you out!"

Thirty seconds later, Wesley and Gunn reached in and grabbed a naked Angel by the hands, pulled him out of the hole that Buffy had made in the dragon's side. Before he could even say a word, Faith slammed into him in a hug that seemed to be about half tackle— and he pulled his hands free from his friends to grab her, hug her back, and hold her.

Wesley had a funny look on his face, though. He touched the dragon, looked at the thing's corpse, then he looked at the hand Angel had grabbed. Then he looked at Angel, and waved a medic over. Wes spoke to the man in low tones, then took something from him, and said, "Faith, I know you're relieved— but I need to make sure Angel's all right."

Faith let go, stepped back, but kept one of Angel's hands in both of hers. Kate-the-PI came up and draped a blanket around Angel, and Faith sat down as Angel did, not letting go of his hand for even a second.

Then Wesley did something really weird— he took the stethoscope he'd gotten from the START medic, popped the earpieces in Angel's ears, and pressed the listening part to Angel's chest.

Angel turned to look at Wes like Wes had lost his mind, opened his mouth to speak— and froze. He cocked his head, looked at Wes, looked down at the stethoscope pressed to his chest— then threw back his head and yelled at the top of his lungs, "I'M ALIVE! I'VE GOT A _HEARTBEAT!"_

"The Shanshu Prophecy fulfilled," Wesley said, grinning so wide it must have hurt.

Faith threw herself in Angel's arms again, hugged him for all she was worth— and pretty soon, it was "dogpile on the ex-vampire," as all of his people and all of the Sunnydale Five joined in (even Xander).

After that… well, START agreed to take care of the bodies for us, and we gathered all of our people except Brianne, who was headed to St. Joseph's Hospital in an ambulance— even the remainder of the Cleveland crew and the EurAsian group— and we went home, after swinging by START's local headquarters to pick up Mom, Laurie, Jocelyn, Nancy and the pseudo dragons. Angel rode with us, and Mom gave him a set of fatigues to wear, a thank you from the START folks (he'd saved a lot of lives, after all).

That little black pseudo dragon that had cued us in to Angel not being dead, he draped himself around Angel's neck. After a minute or two, Angel looked up, startled, and said, "Uh, this little fellow says his name is Jet. Uh, he says he wants to stay with me. Is that normal?"

"Perfectly normal," I said. "At least around us."

We rode through the city in a pair of big armored transport trucks, and we saw a whole lot of people outside in the streets and on the streets, having an impromptu "we survived" party— watching them, while sitting between Mom and Elaine, with Glitter in my arms, it was the perfect reward for all we'd done.

Or so I thought. Then we got home, and we got an even better one.

We all piled out, and Dad unlocked the door and walked into the living room, turned on the lights, and said "What the devil…?"

I looked past him— and I laughed with pure, unadulterated joy.

Every piece of furniture, a lot of the floor, the mantle of the fireplace— everywhere was covered in a wash of brightly-colored, scaled flesh.

"Pseudo Dragon City!" I said, still laughing. "My god, there must be a hundred of them!

"All right, where did you guys come from, and how did you get in? Hmm?"

I was wrong about the numbers— turned out to be closer to six hundred, because they were EVERYWHERE in the house! All sizes, more colors than I'd ever seen in one place— nifty! They'd gotten in through an unlocked window in the kitchen. Dad, in his hurry to save the world (forgivable, that!) had forgotten to set the security system, so there'd been no alarm.

That… that was the perfect reward. A world with pseudo dragons in it can never be a hopeless one, and now we had hope pouring off of us in spades.

The perfect _ending_ to the day came later, when Elaine and I made love until we couldn't move any more, then fell asleep and stayed that way for twelve long hours.

_Epilogue (Rose):_

That was ten years ago, now— a little more, actually, it's February of 2014 as I write this.

The world changed a lot, of course, in a thousand little ways, and a dozen big ones.

With the news footage that went out of all the monsters, well… the whole world (okay, except for some places that wrote it all off as an American hoax) knows that the supernatural is real, is out there, and has both good and bad to it.

START no longer worries about operating in secret. They're right out in the open, and they're now a Joint Operational Force, drawing from all branches of the military for their personnel. Graham… he's a colonel these days, and he still takes to the field on a regular basis— the man loves to kill vampires, and who can blame him?

Slayers… we don't hide, either. In fact, we're so open that the Olympic Regulation board hired a wizard to test participants, to make sure no Slayers were getting in— sort of cheating, you know? I see their point.

Almost every single Slayer on the planet has a pseudo dragon companion, watching their backs, scouting for them, giving comfort when they need it. Same for the Watchers. There are a lot of pseudo dragons now, so many it's… well, Dad calculates that, in the last ten years, mating once a year, they've managed to get their population up to around a hundred and fifty thousand. (When you consider that each couple averages five babies at a go, that's not so hard to believe.)

It's not uncommon to walk down a busy street in a major city and see two or three people with a pseudo dragon on their shoulder or draped around their neck.

Wonderful!

There are Slayer HQs in every major nation of the world now, or at least those that aren't total idiots. (And if vampires and demons manage to take over North Korea… no great loss, right?) We have hotlines and computer networks, and all that jazz. We are _organized_— and the bad guys are hating it.

Watchers… well, we got a few more out of the Battle of Bloomington. Wesley agreed to come back, and Gunn and Fred took jobs as Watchers. Kate-the-PI turned us down, went back to Denver, but admitted that she might join up when she gets too old for the front lines. Lorne… he acts as a counselor to the whole Council.

Angel became a Watcher. As Dad put it, "More than two hundred and fifty years of experience, much of it playing for the other team? I'd be a fool not to offer you a job!"

Angel jumped on it, and he's damned good at it.

Ethan Rayne even took a job as a Watcher, after much cajoling and chivvying. Dad worked hard on getting Ethan to join up— but Ethan turned out to be worth the work.

Personal stuff… if you care.

Laurie, my little sister, is in college now, working on her doctorate in Ancient Languages, and as soon as she graduates, she's a Watcher. Nifty.

Mom had a little boy in May of oh-four, and she and Dad named him… they named him for two of the fallen, for Riley and for Robin Wood. Riley Robin Giles is a good kid— wants to grow up to be a Watcher, like Dad.

Xander and Buffy got married in July of oh-four, and a year later, Buffy had twins, a boy and a girl. The boy is Alexander Liam Harris, the girl is Joyce Samantha Harris, for Buffy's mom and Samantha Finn. Good kids, and my god, those two are good parents. Buffy's semi-retired from field work, and plays mom mostly full time— though she still trains Slayers. She, Xander and the kids are in New York, where he's the chief Watcher for the Slayer Headquarters of the Greater New York Area.

Willow and Lydia are still together, would be married if it was legal— and they live here in Bloomington with us. Willow goes where she's needed, and Lydia teaches art and fencing at the Giles Academy for Education, which is still a going concern.

Angel… Angel married Faith in oh-six, and they've got a little girl of two who's named Helena Cordelia Kilpatrick. (Which, it turns out, is Angel's last name.) Faith's okay now— took a long time, and Angel had to be very patient with her, but after all, in two hundred and fifty years, he learned a lot about patience. They're in LA, running the Slayer HQ there.

Sara— god, that girl turned out to be gorgeous! She's in Sydney, now, in charge of the Slayers there. She does the job right— not like I ever doubted that she would.

Brianne recovered completely, and when she woke up, there was a pseudo dragon sitting on the nightstand of her hospital room— the doctors hadn't had the nerve to chase her out, and she'd been completely cooperative about getting out of their way, so she stayed. She attached herself to Brianne, and they chose the name Jedi for her between them. Best part of the deal? Through Jedi, Brianne can see. Not like she needs to see to fight— she say she prefers to fight "how I learned," but the rest of the time? She treasures that gift of secondhand sight. She's getting married soon, to that friend of Angel's who was assigned to her team, Gunn. I think they're a great couple….

Vincent… Vincent is still here, with us, living in a house of his own across the street from Scooby Mansion with his wife, Vi. She stayed around a while after the Battle, and they got to be friends. A year or so after the battle, they started dating— slowly, cautiously, but successfully. In June of oh-six, they got married, and Willow, bless her ten thousand times, was in fact able to help them have kids. They've got two, both girls, Elizabeth Vivian and Catherine Elise Chandler.

Whitey and Chantelle are still together— not like I doubted that they'd stay together, but it's nice to be right, you know? Jocelyn Kelly is a great kid, and a Slayer— she's already killed a couple of vampires that tried to come after the kids once. She's got her mother's aim, and her father's head for tactics— scary, but in a good way. They're still here in Normal, too, though they've moved to a place of their own with more room— they needed it. They have three more kids, Stephen Vincent, Belinda Michelle and Danielle Marie. Quite a handful, those four, but they're good kids.

Then there's me and my family. _Big_ family!

In May of oh-five, Ballard and Sunrise got married, but, as he put it, "Only because I can't marry her and Sh'rin both, and we never got proper ID for Sh'rin, so it has to be Dawn!"

By then, we'd become a five-some. I guess I'm not so much gay as bi with a strong preference for women, and Elaine's the same. We are both very happy having a relationship with Ballard whose physical aspect is mostly based around oral sex— and he _certainly_ has no complaints.

But that word _mostly,_ that's key. We've both had intercourse with him, though not as often as the other two (okay, not even a significant percentage of as often as Sunrise and Sh'rin— couple of horn-dogs, those two!), but… three, four times a year, I find myself in the mood to make love to him, and he always cooperates. (For Elaine, it's more like five or six times a year.)

Ballard… it's a good thing for him that his dad died and never got around to writing Ballard out of his will, because he needs to be rich to support all his kids!

Sh'rin got pregnant first (Sunrise thought that was very appropriate, since she herself got to be his legal wife, letting Sh'rin have his baby first), and had a little boy that they named Nathaniel Jonathan Innes. Then Sunrise had a girl, and they named her Linnea Kennedy Innes. After that, Sh'rin had a girl, Autumn Jane Innes.

Then it was Elaine's turn. She had a boy and a girl (twins, I thought it was great!), and they named them Graham Jeffrey Innes and Erin Christine Innes, the middle names being for her parents.

Last, there's me. I got pregnant at nineteen, while still in college, and I have a five year old son. With Ballard's permission— and I asked him before I started trying to get pregnant, it would not be fair to drop something like this on him after the fact— I didn't give my son Ballard's last name, but my own.

Michael Evan Killian II looks a lot like his grandfather, whose name he bears in full— and I wouldn't have his looks or his name any other way!

Dad still heads the Watcher's Council and principals the Academy, and Mom works with him on both. Sunrise and Sh'rin are full-time Guardians, and are training a couple dozen more— Kimber among them!— which keeps them busy. Ballard's a full time Watcher.

My buddy Brian is a Watcher, and he runs the computer network that the Watchers use. He never married, him or Kimber— they split up their freshman year of college, but stayed friends.

Elaine… she's famous, now, but you probably knew that. She's a dancer, and last year, she fulfilled a lifelong dream, a dream given her by her all-time favorite book, Stardance, by Spider and Jeanne Robinson— she became the very first human to dance in zero gravity. The video royalties alone have made her rich beyond all belief. She wants to start a dance studio in space….

Me? Well, I'm sort of famous, too, though not on a scale anything like hers. But I have my fans, and they love my books….

Yeah. That's why Dad asked me to do this— I've published about a dozen short stories, and three novels. I haven't had a number one yet, but all three made the top ten of the New York Times bestseller list.

Who knows? If this gets published— and Dad thinks it should, thinks people should know as much as they can about the supernatural and what happened, now that they know some— maybe this will be my number one.

Time will tell.

In the meantime, I write, often with Glitter on my shoulder or around my neck— I swear, she's my muse, and a damned good one! Elaine dances. Sunrise and Sh'rin teach girls to be Guardians. Ballard is a Watcher, and a damned good one, teaching Slayers Capoeira and staying up on his demon-and-monster-knowledge.

Elaine dances, I write, we both play mom and wife— and when the call comes, or the need arises… we're Slayers.

It's what we do. It's who we _are_.

And we wouldn't have it any other way.

_The End_


End file.
